
lliiilli. 




FRESENTKI) B*|- / *^ 




PRIVATE EDWARD ALVA TRUEBLOOD 



Observations of an American Soldier During 
His Service With the A. E. F. in France 



In the 

Flash Ranging 

Service 

by 

Private Edivard Alva Trueblood 




Press of 
THE NEWS PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Sacramento, California 
1919 

fea - a 




"I pledge allegiance to my Flag and to 
the Republic for which it stands — 
one nation, indivisible, with liberty 
and justice for all." 



Gift 

Author 



IlSTO 



^7 



•? 



This book is a record of the personal 
observations of a private soldier in 
the Flash Ranging Service of the 
American Expeditionary Forces in 
France. It not only relates his ex- 
periences while in France, but also 
tells of going over and returning. In 
brief, it is a soldier's story from the 
time he left America to help crush 
the autocracy of Germany, until he 
returned again after fighting was over. 



Contents 



Chapter Page 

I. Going Over 1 

II. Our First Glimpse of France 10 

III. From Brest to Langres 18 

IV. Nearing the Front 29 

V. Preparation for Battle '^1 

VI. The Great St. Mihiel Drive 42 

VII. Gassed 54 

VIII. Hospital Experiences 63 

IX. Home Again 72 



In the Flash Ranging Service 



By Private Edward Alva Trueblood 

Chapter I. 
Going Over. 

When the sun arose on the 22nd of June, 1918, three 
great transports were lying out in the stream of New 
York harbor. They were "filled with American 
soldiers for duties overseas. They were well camou- 
flaged and well convoyed. The previous afternoon they 
had pulled away from a Jersey City pier, where they had 
taken on their human cargoes, and they were undoubt- 
edly under sealed orders. They had slipped away quietly 
from the triers without attracting undue attention, and 
while they moved to the location where they anchored 
for the night, not a soldier's uniform could have been 
detected from shore even after the most scrutinizing 
search with the best binoculars obtainable. The de- 
parture wa*; made without a word of warning and not 
a fond good-bye. It was accomplished with a methodical 
silence that called for admiration. It is the way Uncle 
Sam does things during war times. 

Just before 9 o'clock on that beautiful June morning, 
simultaneously but without communicating with each 
other, each of those transports began to weigh anchor, 
and except for the click, click, click of the machinery 
all was silent. Precisely at 9:05, without the blast of a 
whistle, the sound of a gong, or the hoisting of a 
signal flag on the mast, but like so many automatic 
machines, these vessels turned their prows to the sea 
and began their long voyage. 

One 



Among those who sailed on one of the vessels of this 
transport fleet were the members of the Twenty-ninth 
Engineers, A. E. F., of which I was a member, being 
attached to Compan}^ C, Our departure was an occasion 
never to be forgotten. 

As we glided out of the great harbor and saw first 
the Statue of Liberty, then all trace of our native land 
disappear from sight, and we realized that we were on 
our way to fight the most savage, inhuman and dispic- 
able foe that has ever drawn a lance, a feeling of solemn 
thoughtfulness came over most of the boys. Many of 
them were so affected, as they knew a certain percent- 
age of us must inevitably fall in battle, that they went 
below to spend a few hours by themselves in serious 
thought. I am not ashamed to say that I was one of 
those who sought solace for my feelings in thoughtful 
solitude. 

The vessel upon which we sailed was an Italian trans- 
port, by name, the "King of Italy." It was accompanied 
by a French and a former German liner and was convoyed 
by a destroyer and a cruiser. On the second day out 
we picked up four more transports, making seven in all 
in ©ur fleet. 

There were 1,500 American soldiers on our transport 
and approximately the same on four of the other trans- 
ports. T\vo of them, however, carried more than 3,500 
men, making a total of about 15,000 men on that one 
fleet bound for duty overseas. Of the 1,500 men on the 
King of Italy, 500 were white and 1,000 colored troops. 
No trouble was caused by this mixture of races because 
of good management. The white and colored boys were 
kept on different parts of the boat and all guard duty 
was in the hands of the white troops. 

For the first few hours after sailing, thoughts of 
home lingered in the minds of most of the boys, but 
these were hastily banished when we had our first life 

Two 



drill. This took place at 2 o'clock on our first day out. 
The drill was a thorough one, and it soon became appar- 
ent to most of the boys that even if we should be tor- 
pedoed by a submarine while going across, our troops 
would have no difficulty in getting away from the boat 
before it took its final plunge toward the bottom of the 
sea. In the life drill, every man had his place. He was 
assigned to a certain boat and could take no other. 
The lower decks were emptied first, and then those 
above, one at a time. I was bunked on the fifth deck, 
hence, as the liner had six decks, would have been 
among the last to leave the ship, in case of disaster. 

The object of the life drill, of course, was to make it 
possible to empty the boat of troops quickly and in 
military order in the event that the boat became a sub- 
marine victim. Every man was instructed at the sound 
of the alarm to go to his bunk and stand there until 
given further orders. In the meantime, he was to put 
on his life belt. The boys marched out to the life boats 
only when they received orders from their superiors to 
do so. After a few drills, we mastered the manoeuver 
and it would have been possible for us to have emptied 
that boat of 1,500 soldiers in twelve minutes, if such 
action had been necessary. 

We had life drills two or three times a day all the way 
across. The signal for the drill was four siren blasts, 
and when we heard those blasts, there was a lively time 
on deck for a few minutes, until the ship, in theory, had 
been abandoned. 

American people, who believe in giving their soldiers 
the right kind of treatment, and particularly wholesome 
food, would have been righteously indignant, if they 
could have known how poorly we were fed while on 
that transport. Those at home were buying Liberty 
Bonds and paying heavy war taxes so that the boys in 
the fighting forces would be well fed and clothed, and 

Three 



yet, it is hard to imagine how men could have been 
treated worse, so far as food is concerned than were the 
men of this boat. I am going to be just as frank as I 
know how in describing food conditions with the hope 
that by calling- public attention to this petty graft, such 
practices will be stopped, so far as American fighting 
men are concerned. To any who have weak stomachs, 
I suggest that they skip over the next two or three 
pages, as the details may nauseate them. 

The kitchens and mess rooms of the transport were 
on the top deck. Meal tickets were issued to the men, 
and when they went to mess, the tickets were punched. 
This is the way the Government kept track of the nun- 
ber of meals served, as these tickets were collected when 
we left the boat. The white men were fed first, and the 
colored troopers afterwards. This was done so as to 
keep free of any possibility of racial trouble, and appar- 
ently it worked well. 

After the second day out, our "chow," which is the 
soldier's name for food of all kinds, was vile. It con- 
sisted largely of spoiled beef and such foods as spoiled 
rabbits. When I say spoiled, I mean just what the word 
implies. These rabbits were positively in a state of 
decay. They had been in cold storage for a long time, 
evidently a very long time. Thev had been carried in 
the ice boxes without being drawn, and when exposed 
to the air the odor of decay was so strong that they 
were positively nauseating. I saw strong men turn ex- 
ceedingly sick just from the stench, and I do not believe 
it is an exaggeration to say that there was more upset 
stomachs on that trip from the decaying rabbits that 
were given us to eat than from the action of the sea. 

The beef that we were given consisted of only the 
poorest and toughest parts. The good cuts went to the 
mess for the army officers and for the officers and 
crew of the ship. The potatoes that we were fed were 

Four 



the poorest that I have ever seen. They were served 
about half cooked, and were small, wet, soggy and un- 
palatable. It was seldom that a potato fit to eat was 
given to the men. We received rice several times, but 
it was only about half cooked. During one meal we 
were given bologne sausage, and after some of the boys 
had eaten their allotment, the discovery W3«! made that 
the sausage was full of maggots. The soup was like 
water with neither flavor nor body. The bread served 
was Italian-French bread made with sour dough, and 
not at all palatable to an American, who has been accus- 
tomed to sweet and wholesome bread. The coffee was 
of the poorest quality — probably mostly chickory — and 
we were given neither milk nor sugar for it. The re- 
sult was that most of the boys did not touch their coffee 
at all. The only seasoning given our food was an in- 
sufficiency of salt. Everything served was tasteless, 
unpalatable and unwholesome. 

That there was better food on the boat, we knew, fo»- 
we could see it going to the officers' tables. They 
were served chicken two or three times a week — the 
men never. Officers were given fresh fruit at every 
meal — the men not at ail. Officers were given palatable, 
sweet bread; the men only when they would pay for 
it out of their own pockets and then at a big price. 

It is my opinion that the owners of the boat on which 
I sailed made an enormous profit off those meals served 
to the soldiers. Certainly the Government would not 
have given the soldiers such unfit food. The Govern- 
ment is to blame to this extent, however, in not seeing 
that the ship owners lived up to their contract to feed 
the men properly. There was a man on board who was 
supposed to see that the men were given wholesome 
and nourishing food, but he failed absolutely to perform 
his duty. Whether he was in the company's pay or 
simply negligent, I cannot say, for I do not know. But 

Five 



it is a fact that he did not perform his duty and 1,500 
men were fed spoiled and unnourishing food as a result. 
Men who indulge in "graft" of this kind are no better 
than traitors, and should be treated as such by the 
Government. 

As a part of the uneatable diet we were given, numer- 
ous complaints were made. We were not long in being 
told that we could purchase something in the wav of 
wholesome food for ourselves, if we had the money. 
This was done on the sly. We could purchase a palat- 
able steak for $1.50 or $2, or we could get chops for 
about the same price. A chicken would cost about $4. 
All the bo3^s who had money were forced to buy food 
this way or go hungry. Many of the boys ate only 
enough to keep them alive. Often two would go in to- 
gether and buy a steak or a chicken, each putting up 
half of the money. Even then, we could not get the 
food we wanted. a<i only a limited quantity could be 
"sneaked" out. 

We could buy sweet bread in the canteen on the 
boat for 25 cents a loaf, and a small loaf at that. That 
was the only way we could get it. Sweet rolls, the 
kind that sell four for a nickle at home, cost two for a 
nickle. Oranges, apples, bananas and other kinds of 
fruit cost 25 cents each. Unable to eat the food in the 
mess room, most of the boys had to pay the exorbitant 
prices asked at the canteen or go hungry. 

We had no sugar at all. The Government must 
have provided a sugar ration for us, so my conclusion 
is that it was stolen by someone in connection with 
the boat management and used in some form of graft. 
Because it was necessary for them to buy so much of 
their food, all the boys who had money with which they 
expected to buy things when they landed on the other 
side, were without a penny when the boat docked. 

Every afternoon between 2 and 3 o'clock, the Y. M. 

Six 



C. A. workers who were on the transport came on deck 
and held song services. Many familiar hymns were 
sung. These meetings were very popular at first, but 
gradually the fascination for them wore off, and toward 
the latter part of the voyage they were but lightly 
attended. 

The "Y" workers did promote one form of entertain- 
ment, however, that the boys thoroughly enjoyed. This 
was boxing. Every afternoon several bouts would be 
held. Nearly every company had a fighter and he wai 
matched with the best man of some other company. 
Lively bouts of about three or four rounds were fought. 
The colored soldiers took to this sport keenly and they 
furnished some good contests among themselves. White 
men, however, were not permitted to box the colored 
soldiers, as such a bout might have led to a racial 
difference. Members of the ship's crew also wanted to 
partake in the sport and they furnished several bouts. 
The sailors, however, were somewhat awkward at first, 
but they were game and they afforded us many a good 
laugh. Those who had charge of the boxing never let 
a bout go to a knockout. When one man was appar- 
ently getting the worst of it or was clearly outboxed, 
the bout would be stopped. 

Very strict rules were issued on the boat with regard 
to lights at night. Every porthole was closed, and every 
precaution taken so that not a gleam of light could be 
seen. The men were warned that anyone who at- 
tempted to make a light would be shot on the spot. 
The fleet moved along in the darkness at full speed 
ahead. That it did not meet with accident was due to 
excellent management on the part of the Government. 

All the boats in our fleet were camouflaged. The 
King of Italy had great irregular streaks of black and 
white painted across it. One of the boats in our fleet 
had a really remarkable picture of a sinking ship 

Seven 



painted on its side. Another had two ships painted 
on its side and was camouflaged to look like 
two vessels instead of one. While the camouflaged 
ships appeared strange at first, we soon were used to 
the unusual appearance, and thought nothing of them 
A camouflaged vessel is visible to the naked eye, almost 
as plain as one that has not been daubed with paint, but 
it is through the mirrors of a periscope that the camou- 
flage is effective. In reflecting the picture on the 
horizon, the mirrors lose some of the rays of light, so 
officers explained to me, hence the eyes of the peri- 
scope are unable to detect the camouflage. 

Our voyage passed pleasantly with smooth seas until 
the eleventh day, when the water was a little choppy, 
and then for the first time some of the boys were a 
little sea sick. 

It was my fortune to see our first and only brush 
with a submarine. It happened about 4 o'clock in the 
morning on the twelfth day out. The sea was choppy 
and the night very dark and cold. I was on guard duty 
on the sixth deck of our vessel, and I noticed unusual 
activity on the part of the destroyers that were convoy- 
ing our fleet. Our transport stopped dead still. In a 
moment four shots were fired from the destroyer. I 
could see the fire from the gun plainly. It was an ex- 
citing moment and the first real guns of war that 1 
had ever heard. Depth bombs were also dropped, then 
all was still again. All this happened without disturb- 
ing the men asleep on our boat, and in the morning 
they were told that the transport had been attacked 
by submarines. It was the belief that the destroyer 
had sunk one of the U-boats. 

We were given orders on the twelfth day to sleep 
in our clothes with our life belts on during the rest of 
the trip. This was issued so that there would be no 
delay in getting off the boat if we were hit bv a tor- 
Eight 



pedo. That night, being unused to sleeping with 
clothes on, was a restless one for most of us. The 
following night, however, notwithstanding the fact that 
we were fully dressed, we slept well. 

We were also joined on that day by a flotilla of de- 
stroyers. The sight of these boats was hailed with joy, 
for we knew we were nearing land. We had not been 
informed, however, in what country nor at what port 
we would land, but we had hoped that it would be 
France, and we soon learned that our destination was 
France. 

The torpedo boat flotilla that accompanied us during 
the last two days was made up mostly of American and 
British destroyers, though there were two French boats 
among them. They made a lively scene, and surely gave 
us great protection. If a speck would appear on the 
horizon, two boats would be off to investigate it, and 
would return later to join the fleet. We were also 
accompanied on the last day of the voyage by two 
airplanes as a further protection against submarines. 

We sighted land on the thirteenth day, and it was a 
welcome view. Everybody was happy and eager to 
disembark. It was quite a contrast from the feeling 
that existed just after we left New York harbor. We 
were a merry crowd as we entered the harbor of Brest 
and we were glad to see a large city again. We dis- 
embarked at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Before leaving 
the boat, we were given "leaving rations," which con- 
sisted of a loaf of sour bread, a can of bully beef and 
a small piece of cheese. This was given to us because 
we had a long march ahead and our kitchens would not 
be in place for several hours. We were taken off the 
transport on barges built especially for that purpose. 
We were then marched to the Napoleon Barracks, built 
by the Emperor Napoleon, eight miles from Brest, and 
were glad to put our feet on land again, even though 

Nine 



the march was a long one after a thirteen day sea 
voyage. We had only a passing glimpse of Brest, but 
did not mind that as we knew we would have opportun- 
ity to visit the city later. 

CHAPTER II. 
Our First Glimpse of France 

At Brest, the American soldiers got their first idea of 
the magnitude of the work that the American Govern- 
ment was doing in the prosecution of the war. Prior 
to our arrival there we had heard a great deal about 
the construction work in French ports that the Ameri- 
cans had undertaken, but our ideas of just what this 
work was, were more or less vague. At Brest we saw 
just what it was. We saw miles of concrete piers that 
had been built in record-breaking time with American 
skill, American speed and American thoroughness. This 
work was a revelation to all France, and the magnitude 
of the task, together with the remarkably short time in 
which it was completed, stamp it as one of the wonders 
of the war and as a lasting tribute to American in- 
genuity and efficiency. These piers and warehouses of 
American construction played a great part in ending 
the war, for they enabled the American Government 
not only to land millions of troops in France, but to 
provide adequate food, ammunition, guns and other 
necessary supplies for these men. Nothing like it had 
ever been done before in the history of the world. 

Soon after we left the boat at Brest, the men were 
lined up on the pier and given a sensible and appre- 
ciated address by the Commanding Officer. He told us 
that now more than ever before, since we were upon 
foreign soil, orders were to be obeyed to the letter. We 
were told to be careful in all that we did because by 
our actions the French people would judge the Ameri- 
can nation. He advised us to do everything commanded 

Ten 



of us by our officers with snap and thoroughness, so as 
to show the French people that we were not raw re- 
cruits; that we were real soldiers; that we could do as 
well at any task, if not better, than the soldiers of 
Europe. The boys, to a man, lived up to those instruc- 
tions, and it was not long before the world knew that 
the American soldier was the equal of any on earth. 

After this interesting advice was received we swung 
into squad right and our first march on French territory 
began. We first marched more than a mile through 
the railroad yards in Brest. These were all of Ameri- 
can construction. We saw miles of warehouses, filled 
with various kinds of material of war and great quan- 
tities of food, not only for the American soldiers, but 
for the civilians of France as well. These warehouses 
were of wooden construction, and so different in design 
and material from other buildings in Brest that we recog- 
nized at once that they were built by Yankees, For 
this reason, we greeted them as friends ; it was like 
looking- upon a familiar scene. 

Most everything else, however, that met our ej^es had 
a decidedly foreign look. The railroad trains in the 
yards were French, and entirely different from those 
of this country. The freight cars have a diminutive 
look. They are only about half the size of American 
cars and they rest upon single trucks. The locomotives 
are much smaller than ours and have brass boilers. We 
did not see anything of the familiar dark red American 
box car and the giant American locomotives until we 
got into the interior of France. 

We passed many peasant women and children while 
we were marching through the railroad yards. Some of 
them were offering cakes and nuts for sale, others were 
begging white bread from us. It was here that we first 
heard those two French words that became so familiar 
to us before we left France, "Donnez moi." It was 

Eleven 



"doiinez moi" this and "donnez moi" that, especially 
from the children who begged cigarettes, pennies, and 
anjthing else that the American boys might have to 
give av^ay. 

Brest is built on hills, some of which rise abruptly 
and give a picturesque look to the old city. As we 
marched through the residence part of the city, the 
women from the windows gave us a hearty welcome, 
waving flags and calling ''Vive les Amerique." Our 
march took us over a winding roadway through the 
district where the poorer classes lived and we did not 
get a view of the more attractive parts of the city on 
our arrival. The street we marched along was paved 
with broken rock and was in excellent condition; it 
was crossed several times by overhead railroad tracks 
built on massive arches of masonry. 

Our first impressions are rather difficult to describe 
because everything had such different appearance from 
familiar things in America. One noticeable feature was 
the character of the construction. The buildings are of 
stone or some other such inflammable material, with 
roofs of slate or tile. There are no frame buildings, 
except those that have been constructed by Americans 
since April, 1917. 

The dress and the habits of the people differ mate- 
rially from those of America. Most of the lower classes 
wear sabots, or wooden shoes. Some wear sabots with 
leather tops. But few, if any, all leather shoes are in 
use among the lower classes. While all shades and 
colors of clothes were worn by children, we noticed 
that the women were nearly all dressed in black. This, 
we believed to be because they had lost relatives in the 
war, and we later found that our conclusion was the 
correct one. Among the poorer classes the men wear 
large loosely fitting trousers and tight jackets. They 
wear a peculiar hat, with a. tightly fitting crown, a 

Twelve 



broad round brim, and two streamers of black ribbon 
about eighteen inches long hanging down in back. The 
middle classes dress more like Americans, though not 
with as well made clothes as one is accustomed to see 
in this country. 

After marching about five miles, we were given a 
rest in an open field in the outskirts of Brest. Here 
we were again addressed by an officer and cautioned 
to be careful about coming in contact with the French 
people, and particularly with the women and children 
of the lower classes. We were informed that the lower 
classes of women and the peasant children are nearly 
all syphylitic, especially in seaport towns. This sent a 
shudder through us, for we had already been fondling 
some of the French children, before we realized the 
necessity for caution. The warning was heeded and 
thereafter the boys kept the peasants at a distance. 

As we resumed our march, we began to get into a 
cultivated district. The rolling land along the roadway 
was cut up into small farms ranging in size from a half 
acre to about two and a half acres. The boundary lines 
of these farms were hedges; there were no fences, such 
as we have in America. The land was planted to truck 
gardens, berries, fruit trees, etc., and at the time that 
we saw them, they were in good condition and appar- 
ently quite productive. 

It was about 6 o'clock in the evening and after a long 
and hard march that we arrived at the Napoleon Bar- 
racks, where we were to have a few days' rest before 
going Into the interior. These barracks are quite ex- 
tensive. They are built of stone and are surrounded by 
a stone wall. The wall is about three feet thick and 
twenty feet high, and it would be a difficult matter for 
anyone to scale it. To keep soldiers from trying to get 
out, broken glass is cemented into it for the entire 
length on top. The purpose of this was to make it so 

Thirteen 



dangerous that no soldier would attempt to climb it. There 
are two arched gateways leading to the interior. These 
archways are fitted with heavy gates, which were origi- 
nally designed as defense gates in case of attack. The 
main buildings within the enclosure are of two stories 
and are built of stone. We were not long in being 
assigned to the bunks that we were to occupy during 
our stay. These were two decked affairs with a 
mattress of slats about two inches apart to sleep on. 
They were about as uncomfortable as anyone can 
imagine and most of the boys preferred to sleep on 
the floor. These barracks had been occupied by many 
American boys who had gone before us. We saw thou- 
sands of American names written on the walls, and 
occasionally we would run across one that we knew. 
And, like the other, we too wrote our names, for the 
boys who followed to read and comment upon. 

Our meal for the first night at the barracks consisted 
3f the rations we had been given upon leaving the 
ship — bully beef, sour bread and cheese. Our cooks got 
their fires started and gave us some coffee, which stimu- 
lated us after our long and tiresome march. 

After eating, we were permitted to write to our folks 
at home, and all of us spent the evening in correspond- 
ence. We were not permitted to write while on board 
ship, so most of us had several letters to send. I wrote 
until 11 o'clock that night. I was surprised to find that 
it was not yet dark. The long and appreciated twilight 
is due to the fact that Brest is a great distance farther 
north than Sacramento, and this was in the middle of 
summer, when the evenings are longest. 

Not all of the buildings within the walls at the 
barracks are of ancient construction. Several were re- 
cently built, such as a hospital, a bath house for the 
accommodation of our men, the Y. M. C. A. hut, etc. At 
this particular place the "Y" hut was appreciated by us 

Fourteen 



because it afforded us amusement, we could buy fruit, 
cakes, tobacco and other articles there, and we could 
attend to our correspondence there. We were assem- 
bled there on one occasion to hear two addresses on 
the ways and habits of the French people, which were 
to benefit us. We also exchanged our American money 
at the hut for French money. For a dollar we received 
five francs and seventy centimes, and it was amusing 
to see the boys studying over the French money sys- 
tem, as it was difficult to understand at first. Some of 
the boys, not knowing the value of the French franc, 
paid enormous prices for fruits, candies, etc., to French 
women and girls, who peddled these articles. 

While at the Napoleon Barracks we saw the first 
American wounded. They were soldiers who had par- 
ticipated in the defense against the German drive which 
began in March, 1918. It was from them that we first 
learned the real horrors of war. Some had only one 
arm; others had lost a leg; still others were suffering 
from shell shock. Those who were suffering from shell 
shock were the most pitiful, as the least unusual noise 
startled them. 

I had the good fortune to be placed on a motor truck 
detail during three days of our brief stay at Brest. 
This gave me an opportunity of seeing most of the city. 
It has about 120,000 inhabitants, is one of the chief ports 
of France and has a harbor that is protected by nature 
as well as by strong fortifications. Lying as it does, 
among the hills, there is much natural beauty in the city 
and its surroundings. The streets are about as wide as 
those of the average American city, although there are a 
number of very narrow streets that cut into the main 
thoroughfares at angles and these reminded me some- 
what of the narrow streets of Boston. The city is kept 
clean and there are numerous parks and public squares. 
The latter are frequented mostly by women and chil- 

Fifteen 



dren, though it is not uncommon to see French soldiers, 
home from the front on leave, lounging in them. The 
warm blooded French people have ideas that differ 
widely from those of Americans in many respects, and 
it is nothing unusual to see a French couple making 
love in broad daylight with persons passing by on all 
sides, in one of these public parks. Occasionally one 
would see an American soldier sitting with a French 
Madamoiselle. French troops were often drilling in 
these squares — not troops that had participated in the 
war, but companies of younger men who were being 
trained for war. It was interesting to watch them and 
to contrast their manoevuers with ours. 

There are no skyscrapers in Brest, that is to say, there 
are no tall office buildings there, although the city is 
an important business point. The only tall structures 
are the churches and an old castle, dating from the 
thirteenth century. The business buildings are all of 
two or three stories. The stores are not as up to date 
as the retail establishments in America, and the methods 
of doing business are entirely different from ours. 
Goods are not on display in the open as they are in 
American stores, but are kept in show cases. If you 
are interested in a certain piece of goods, the clerk 
takes it out of the show case and exhibits it to you. 
If you do not buy it, the article is placed right back in 
the show case. The clerks are mostly girls. They are 
plainly dressed but always neat. Most of them wear 
black. They are by no means as well dressed as Ameri- 
can girls who work in stores. The French store em- 
ployes are very poorly paid, the average wage for a 
clerk being two and a half francs, or about 50 cents in 
American money a day. 

During the war, Brest was very much of a cosmo- 
politan city. On the streets most any day could be seen 
the uniforms of the soldiers and sailors of all the 

Sixteen 



Allied nations— French, British, Italian, Portuguese, 
American and others. The uniforms of the different 
nations are of different hues and they gave a tinge of 
color to the crowds on the streets. They ranged from 
spotless white to faded blues. The uniforms of the 
Italian soldiers, in my opinion, were the most attractive. 
They were a pretty gray, well made and attractive in 
design. The uniform of the American soldier, while not 
the prettiest, is the most serviceable. For war use it 
is no doubt the best. The British wear uniforms very 
much like ours, although a little different in shade and 
design. They are serviceable and neat but not attrac- 
tive. The coat has a small lapel and large brass buttons 
that are always well shined. The home guards of the 
French army wore flashy coats and trousers. The 
trousers were either blue with a broad red stripe or red 
with a blue stripe. 

I regret that our brief stay in Brest did not give me 
a better opportunity to see the mediaeval churches and 
castles in the vicinity. But war is serious business with 
no time for sightseeing and on the third night after 
our arrival, we received our orders to march at 4 o'clock 
the following morning. It was a restless night for we 
knew that every day from now on would take us nearer 
to the front and to the fight. At 3:30 o'clock on the 
morning of our departure we were all up and dressed 
and were packing our belongings. We came to com- 
pany front promptly at 4 o'clock, just as the dawn^was 
breaking; in a very few minutes we were marching 
out of the historic Napoleon Barracks never to see them 
again. The morning was cool and crisp; it was con- 
ducive to lively marching and we stepped along at a 
fast clip, passing three companies of infantry on the 
way to Brest. The march was an eight mile "hike" and 
we made it without a stop until we reached the railroad 
yards at Brest. We were then assigned to compart- 

Seventeen 



ments in French railroad coaches. Most of them were 
second and third class coaches, although there were a 
few first class cars for the officers. There were five 
compartments to a car and eight men were assigned 
to each compartment; as we also had to make room 
for our luggage, we were crowded and uncomfortable. 
However, we made the best of the unpleasant condi- 
tions, and patiently awaited the starting of the train, 
which was to take us through a country new and 
strange to us, and nearer to the war zone. 

CHAPTER III. 

From Brest to Langres 

Before our train pulled out of Brest we were ordered 
out of our crowded compartments in the French railroad 
coaches for the purpose of bringing in traveling rations. 
These consisted of canned bully beef, canned jam, can- 
ned beans and bread. The bread that was given to us 
here was made into enormous loaves — the largest that 
any of us had ever seen. The loaves were sixteen or 
eighteen inches wide, from two and a half to three feet 
long and eight or nine inches high. They were Ameri- 
can-made and were white and wholesome. The outside 
crust was hard but palatable and the inside was soft and 
flaky like home-made bread. We afterwards learned that 
these loaves had been baked weeks in advance and that 
they were kept fresh and palatable by the use of a 
chemical. Each compartment of eight men was given 
three of these large loaves which, together with a num- 
ber of cans of beans, bully beef and jam, were to keep 
us supplied with food until we reached Langres, in east- 
ern France, which was our destination. We had prev- 
iously learned — on our trip overseas — to conserve food, 
and none of this supply was wasted. We stored it 
away in our cramped quarters and saw that it got 
proper care. 

Eighteen 



As we sat in the train waiting for it to start, we look- 
ed out upon the bay of Brest and saw numerous tugs 
busy along the waterfront. They were all engaged in 
war work of some kind. We also saw more American 
troops being landed at the wharf, just as we were landed 
a few days previous, and we knew their thoughts ^nd 
feelings. In the air there were several airplanes and 
dirigible balloons giving needed protection to the ships 
that were entering the harbor. 

While we were still in the yards of Brest, we also saw 
for the first time in France, numerous Chinese coolies, 
who were doing with their labor their part toward win- 
ning the war. They worked on the railroad tracks in 
large gangs. To the Eastern boys who were not ac- 
quainted with this class of Chinese laborers, they were 
quite a curiosity, but to the Western boys, the sight 
was nothing unusual. The coolies, however, were not 
dressed in the customary Chinese clothes, as in Califor- 
nia, but were in a garb more like that which American 
laborers wear. They had on overalls, loose blouses or 
jumpers, heavy leather shoes and straw hats. 

We pulled out of Brest about 10 o'clock in the morn- 
ing. The train was made up of about twenty-five or 
thirty of those small and uncomfortable French coaches, 
and it moved very slowly. To one used to the fast first- 
class American trains, this French train seemed ex- 
ceedingly slow, unaccommodating and tiresome. We 
first climbed gradually up the hills, overlooking the 
bay, and were furnished with a wonderful view. We 
could see far out to sea, and were in part compensated 
for the lack of comforts to which an American is ac- 
customed when traveling, by the beauty of the scenery, 
and the many strange and interesting sights that were 
constantly meeting our eyes. 

Soon after we left the ocean we came to a fertile 
farming section, in which crops of various kinds, such 
as grains, fruits, garden truck, etc., were grown. We 

Nineteen 



had known that the farms in European countries are 
small, especially those of France, as compared with 
farms in America, but it was necessary for us to see 
the actual size of these small farms to realize how 
diminutive they are. As in the vicinity of Brest, men- 
tioned in a previous chapter, the cultivated areas ranged 
in size from a half acre to two and a half acres. Rarely 
we would see a place as large as five acres, but that 
was the exception. No fences separated these farms, 
but the boundaries were marked by hedges and occa- 
sionally a low stone wall. In these small fields culti- 
vation is not practiced as in this country, but the land 
is tilled in narrow strips. The numerous different tex- 
tures of the soil, accounted for the large number of 
strips. Each strip was planted to a crop to which it 
was best suited. 

The highways through this farming section are kept 
in excellent condition. They are built of rock and 
give the impression from the train window that a motor 
trip through France would be a delight. Rows of trees 
are planted along all the highways, the poplar tree 
predominating, but other trees being used frequently as 
well. The by-roads are of dirt but appear to be kept in 
good condition. They also have trees planted along 
them; this seems to be a characteristic of France, and 
readers will recall that in all war pictures where these 
roads have been shown, the rows of trees are always 
there. This is an excellent feature and one that Cali- 
fornia with its rapidly increasing mileage of concrete 
roads, might well follow. 

Very few automobiles were seen on these highways, 
except those engaged in war transportation. Of course 
at the time that I made my observations, the country 
was engaged in war, and in peace times no doubt more 
automobiles belonging to civilians are in use. It is a 
fact, however, there are comparatively few automobiles 
among the civil population of France. Only the very 

Twenty 



rich own them. The masses of the people do not possess 
them, as in America. The civil population either walk 
along these highways or travel in horse-drawn carts 
and wagons. The carts are different from any that we 
see in America. Frequently they are heavily constructed 
with wheels of from six to eight feet in diameter. They 
are fitted with brakes, which are used on the grades. 
They have a long body, that is, long for a cart, and this 
is laden with the varied products of the small farms 
which are in this way taken to market. Most frequently 
these carts are drawn by one horse, though it is not 
unusual to see two or three horses hitched to one when 
the load is heavy. When more than one horse is used, 
the animals are not hitched abreast, but tandem. The 
wheel horse is hitched between two long heavy shafts 
and his duty seems to be largely that of steering the 
unwieldy conveyance, while the front horse or horses 
do most of the pulling. The harness is heavy and the 
rear horse is protected from sores that might be caused 
by rubbing, by a heavy and well padded saddle and a 
heavy girth. It was a common sight to see a woman 
driving one of these carts and guiding the wheel horse 
and handling the brakes, while boys were either driv- 
ing or leading the leaders. These strange and cumber- 
some rigs, so different from any that we had ever seen 
before, interested and amused us. 

The crops in the section through which we passed on 
our first da}'- out of Brest appeared to be good. They 
gave me, a Californian with considerable farming ex- 
perience, the impression that agriculture has been very 
carefully studied by the French. Occasionally we would 
see small tracts lying fallow, apparently to give the land 
a needed rest, while other tracts were being cultivated. 
On some of the small farms it was haying season. We 
were surprised as we noted the methods of the French 
farmer in this particular branch of husbandry. The hay 
was cut mostly by women and children with scythes. 

Twenty -one 



An American mower probably had never been seen there. 
It seemed like a tremendous waste of human energy to 
see these women and children doing such hard manual 
labor in the field, when a modern mower would cut 
the entire field in a very short time. It seems to me 
there should be a field for the sale of American mowers 
and other modern American farm machinery in the rural 
districts of France. While the farms are so small that 
the individual farmer could not, perhaps, afford to buy 
a mower, still, several farmers could go m together 
and buy one, or the community as a whole could buy 
one, for the common use of all who needed it. Here is 
something that the French and American Governments 
might get together on, for surely the French want to 
conserve the energy of their women and children who 
now do this hard work, and the Americans want a 
wider market for their modern farm equipment. It must 
be said, however, that the women of the French peas- 
antry who were doing this hard work, appeared strong 
and healthful, and were enured to this difficult labor, no 
doubt, through many generations of this hard farm life. 

We noticed as we got away from the coast, that there 
was a change in the style of dress of the peasants. We 
no longer saw the round hats with the ribbon streamers 
hanging down behind, so familiar in the rural districts 
around Brest. The dress of the peasants, farther in the 
interior, was more like that of the laboring classes of 
America. The men and women both wore serviceable 
clothes of dark material, but few of them wore anything 
on their heads. Sabots were worn instead of leather 
shoes. The women wore a sort of an Arctic sock over 
the stockings ; the men frequently wore no socks at all. 
Occasionally the sabots would be several sizes too large 
for the wearer, but were made to fit by stuffing straw 
in them. This must have been rather uncomfortable, 
but the French peasantry seemed not to mind it at all. 

While the horse is the p/incipal draft animal in France, 

Twenty-two 



oxen are also used by some farmers. Most Western 
boys have seen teams of oxen, as they are still in use 
in some of the mountain districts of California, or at 
least they were still in use up to a few years ago; but 
to the Eastern boys an ox team was a new and inter- 
esting sight, and there was much comment upon it. 

The first large city at which we stopped after leaving 
Brest was Nantes. This is a popular and ancient city, 
famous for the edict of Nantes, and more famous still, 
perhaps, because of the revocation of that edict by Louis 
XIV, which led to disastrous religious wars. Nantes is 
also famous as the birthplace of Jules Verne, whose 
"Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," became an 
actuality during the world war. It is a city of about 
150,000 and is an important industrial center, having ex- 
tensive shipyards, factories, wharves, etc. It is on the 
right bank of the Loire River, about thirty-five miles 
from its mouth and is one of the chief ports of entry 
of France. 

Nantes has a very interesting history and it contains 
many ancient and famous edifices. It was not our priv- 
ilege, however, to see any more of the city than the 
views afforded from the train, for we stopped here but 
a short time. It was there that we got our first taste of 
French coffee, which is very different from that made 
and served in America. It was furnished to us by the 
French Government. At first it was distasteful to us, 
but after drinking it a few times we became used to it 
and later on we really liked it. 

We were now in the rich valley of the Loire, one of 
the most productive and one of the most famous in 
France. It is not nearly so large as the Sacramento Val- 
ley, in California, nor as fertile, yet its fame extends 
around the world. It is drained by the Loire River, 
which is the longest river in France, being more than 
600 miles in length, and being navigable for ships as far 

Twenty-three 



as Nantes and for river boats for more than five hun- 
dred miles of its length. 

In the valley of the Loire we began to see the beauti- 
ful vineyards of France. In this district the farms as a 
rule were a little larger than- those we saw on our way 
from Brest to Nantes, and consequently the hedges were 
less numerous. It was an exceedingly picturesque scene 
that met our eyes as we rolled along in the slow train. 
One noticeable fact was that each little vineyard was of 
a different shade of green from that of its nearest 
neighbors, due perhaps, to a different variety of plant, 
or to a variation of soil. There seemed to be no two 
of just the same shade. It was also in the Valley of the 
Loire that we saw considerable fruit production. 
Orchards were more numerous here than on the coast. 
They were planted to most of the deciduous trees with 
which we of California are familiar, although prunes 
seemed to predominate. 

While we were traveling through this valley we were 
greeted with some familiar sights and sounds. These 
were the American box car and locomotive and the 
sound of the whistle of a U. S. A. train. We greeted 
the American rolling stock as companions, and were 
truely glad to see them. We could easily distinguish 
between the sound of the whistle of an American loco- 
motive and that of a French engine, the American whis- 
tle being deep and the French shrill. It may seem strange 
to think that I comment upon such a small matter as a 
locomotive whistle, but when one is in a foreign land, 
amid foreign scenes and sounds, a familiar sound is 
good to hear, even though it is as unmusical as a deep 
blast of an American-made locomotive. 

Our next stop at a place of importance was at Tours — 
historic Tours. This is a city of more than 100,000 inhab- 
itants and is one of the most interesting cities in France. 

I spent several weeks here in a hospital after being 

Twenty -four 



gassed on the Metz front and I will speak in more de- 
tail of this city in a later chapter. 

At Tours we were given more freedom than at any- 
previous stop, and here our officers bought chocolates, 
tobacco and fruit and distributed them among the men. 
These dainties were the first we had since leaving Brest 
and were surely appreciated. 

After leaving Tours we continued to wind through the 
Valley of the Loire along the Loire River, and I must 
say that the vineyards and orchards between Tours and 
Orleans, our next stop, were the prettiest that I saw 
in all of France. In this particular part of the valley the 
trees and vines are exceedingly prolific, as compared 
with trees and vines in other parts of France. They are 
not, however, as prolific as those of California. The 
trees do not attain as large a growth as those of this 
State and the vines are less vigorous. The fruit is 
neither as large nor does it have the quality of ours. 
The 1918 fruit crop was a large one, as measured by 
French standards, but yield per acre, I am sure, would 
be small as compared with the yield per acre of a first 
class Sacramento river orchard. The difference of the 
quality and the yield as compared with our fruits, is un- 
doubtedly due to the fact that for centuries the lands 
of the Loire have been cultivated, while our lands are 
new and contain all their natural richness. The vine- 
yards are planted differently from ours. The vines are 
four feet apart one way and eight feet apart another, 
while ours are usually planted eight or ten feet apart 
each way. Having been reared on a California vineyard, 
I was naturally very much interested in the vineyards 
of France, and I examined those that I had the oppor- 
tunity of visiting very carefully. I inspected some of the 
grapes that were pronounced first class by French vine- 
yardists, and found them to be very inferior to Califor- 
nia grapes. The berries were smaller and they con- 
tained less juice. 

Twenty-five 



The farther we traveled Into the interior of France, 
the more interested the people became in us. In other 
words, the nearer we came to the scene of action, the 
greater was the enthusiasm of the French people over 
our arrival. While we excited but small interest in the 
small towns on the coast, as we got closer to the front, 
there were delegations of women and children at the 
station waving to us at every small or large town 
through which we passed. Cries of "Vive L'Amerique" 
were more frequent, and we had hopes that the per- 
sistent "donnez moi" would be heard less frequently, 
but it was not. We never ceased hearing it as long as 
there were French children around. 

We arrived at Orleans late in the evening of the third 
day of our trip, and here we received a very hearty wel- 
come from the American Red Cross, as we did at Tours. 
The station.at Orleans was more like an American sta- 
tion than any that we had yet seen in France. It was 
large and equipped with several tracks, as are most 
American stations. Orleans is full of interest, but we 
were not permitted to stop there long. We continued 
on our journey all night and the next day were out of 
the Valley of the Loire and into a hilly section. While 
the scenery was attractive, there were fewer cultivated 
areas and the soil was less productive. We now began 
to see more of the American war activities in France. 
We saw tented cities that had been built for troops in 
record time ; we saw camps where American soldiers were 
being drilled; and we saw great quantities of American 
implements of war such as airplanes, ammunition, light 
and heavy artillery, etc. In this region we also passed 
three hospital trains coming from the front with Ameri- 
can soldiers who had been wounded, and we knew we 
were getting very near the fighting. We also noticed a 
decided difference in the French inhabitants. We de- 
tected a deeper interest in the war among these people 
who were so near the battle line than in those farther 

Twenty-six 



away, and we noted that not a young man was to be 
seen among the civilians in eastern France — they were 
all at the front fighting to save their homes from the 
ruthless Hun. 

At 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the fourth day after 
we had left Brest, we arrived at Langres, which was 
our destination, so far as train travel was concerned. 
It was a great relief to leave those crowded compart- 
ments in that uncomfortable train. The distance from 
Brest to Langres by the route we traveled probably 
does not exceed six hundred miles, yet it took us four 
days and three nights to make the distance. A first 
class American train would cover the same distance in 
about sixteen hours. At times our train moved so slow- 
ly that a man could get out and keep up with it by run- 
ning along the side. There were no conveniences on the 
train, such as American travelers are accustomed to. 
For instance, there were no toilets, and the train would 
stop every three or four hours at some small station 
where latrines were provided for our use. No one knows 
how miserable we were on this trip, and the only thing 
that kept the boys from complaining was the fact that 
the country was new to us and strange sights and scenes 
made us forget our discomfort. Still, we did not have 
things as bad as some of the American boys, who were 
compelled to travel across France in box cars. 

We were all glad to stretch our legs at Langres, and 
after we were given a little refreshing exercise, we were 
loaded on motor trucks and taken to our barracks, 
located in a stone building formerly used as a convent. 

The city of Langres is beautifully situated. It is on 
a hill that rises from a plateau. It is a city of great 
antiquity, dating from the time of the Romans. There 
can be no doubt but that its original location was se- 
lected because of its strategic position, as it is on the 
summit of a ridge and commands the situation in every 
direction. In mediaeval times it was a stronghold for 

Twenty- seven 



the feudal lords and in modern times it is still of im- 
portance as a fortress. The city is surrounded by a de- 
fense wall, built hundreds of years ago, and around the 
outside of the wall was a moat, wide and deep. In 
feudal days this moat was part of the defense works 
and it was kept filled with water. It was dry when we 
visited and has been so for many years, as a moat would 
be but as slight obstructure in modern warfare. But it 
made the city well nigh impregnable in the mediaeval 
days before gunpowder was invented and when most 
fighting was of the hand to hand kind. We entered 
the city through an arched gate and crossed the moat on 
a bridge which could be drawn up in case of attack. At 
present the gate is always kept lowered, but it could be 
drawn up if necessary. It was easy to picture in the 
mind's eye as we looked at these relics of former days, 
the feudal barons of the age of chivalry, sallying forth 
from this ancient stronghold on their steeds to make 
war or to plunder and prepared to retreat behind this 
moat and wall where they would be safe in the event 
that they were opposed by superior forces. I could not 
but think, as I stood upon this historic ground, that we 
ourselves were making history and that the fight that 
we were then preparing to make, while less romantic 
than the skirmishes of the feudal barons, was vastly 
more important to the welfare of the world. 

Situated as it is upon an eminence, a view that is be- 
yond description is to be obtained from Langres. From 
the ramparts one may see the upper valley of the Marne 
with its checkerboard of farms of various hues; the 
Vosges ; and on a clear day the white peak of Mont 
Blanc, one hundred and sixty miles distant. 

In strong contrast with the way in which ancient war- 
riors entered Langres, we were loaded onto motor 
trucks and taken up the steep and winding way that 
led to the gates of the city by means of the most mod- 
ern way of transportation. Our eyes were fastened on 

Twenty-eight 



the oddities of this strangely interesting city as we 
wound through the streets, some of which were nar- 
row, others wide, past well kept parks and buildings 
older than most of the modern governments, and we 
were filled with a sort of reverence for this historic 
spot as we took our places in the barracks made ready 
for us. 

CHAPTER IV 

Nearing the Front 

After we were installed in the barracks at Langres 
and had our personal belongings straightened out, we 
were given the day to ourselves. This was the first 
freedom that we had had since our arrival in France. 
The boys, of course, all went to the business section of 
the city, where many of them were given their first 
glimpse of French customs and French methods of 
merchandising. As I had been fortunate in getting into 
the business section of Brest while we were there, this 
was not new to me, but to most of the boys it was a 
novel experience. They spent their time and much of 
their money in the 'French stores, buying small articles 
of various kinds. One oddity of the freedom that we 
were given here was the fact that the American soldiers, 
although forbidden to buy alcoholic liquors in America, 
were permitted to buy them without restrictions in 
France, and it is only telling the plain truth to say 
that many of them sampled the French beers, wines and 
cognac. 

I had an experience in a French barber shop that may 
be of interest, as it shows the difference between 
French and American barbers. The French barber does 
his work very rapidly, in fact so rapidly when he is 
shaving that the patron wonders whether or not he is 
going to get out of the chair uninjured. I ordered a 
haircut, a shave, a shampoo and a face massage. I had 

Twenty-nine 



much difficulty at first in making m)'- wants understood, 
particularly as to the manner in which I wanted my hair 
cut. This finally made clear, I sat in the chair and the 
barber went to work on me with his sharp shears. His 
hands moved like lightning and it seemed like no more 
than two minutes that he had the job done. It was the 
fastest hair cutting I ever witnessed and a good job, 
too. He then proceeded to shave me, and for speed he 
exceeded his already phenomenal record as a hair cutter. 
He put a thin lather on my face and then with a thin 
razor — the thinnest I ever saw — he slashed off a four 
days' growth with six strokes — one down the ngnt 
cheek, one down the left cheek, one acrosstheentireupper 
lip, one — a fancy curved stroke — across the chin, then 
up one side of the neck and a final stroke up the other. 
In less time than it takes to tell, the job was done, and 
it was a clean smooth shave too. But while he was 
slashing that razor around I was uneasy. It was my 
first and last experience with a French barber; there- 
after, it was safety first. The massage was excellent, 
but what impressed me about the shampoo was the 
small amount of water used. Water must be costly in 
Langres from the way that barber conserved it, but 
with no more than a handful of water, he did his work 
well. The face waters used by French barbers are all 
highly perfumed, in fact, too much so for the rough 
Westerner. When a man leaves a barber shop he 
carries a sickening sweet aroma with him and his 
friends know where he has been when he is as much as 
a hundred yards away. It may be of interest to note 
that the shave, hair cut, shampoo and massage cost me 
two and a half francs, or a little less than 50 cents 
American money. The price of the same service in the 
average American shop at the present time (August, 
1919) would be about $1.65. 

The following day the men in our detachment were 

Thirty 



assigned to various kinds of work at Langres. I was 
given a motor truck to drive. It was in very poor con- 
dition and my first duty was to get it in working 
order. I spent three days overhauling it and had it in 
fair serviceable shape. But after putting all this work 
on it, I had the pleasure of running it only about three 
days, for I received orders, along with 208 others, to 
pack and get ready for a special course in a military 
school. I had only half an hour's time to get ready, but 
at the appointed time I was prepared to go, and with 
the boys chosen for the schooling, was loaded onto a 
motor truck and taken to Fort St. Menge, one of the 
numerous protecting forts around Langres. This was 
an old fort, apparently built many years ago. It was 
situated on the summit of a mountain and was sur- 
rounded by a moat, which, however, was dry. It was 
substantially built and exceedingly interesting. The 
barracks were built underground and of stone. They 
were sealed and were water-tight. Soil from ten to 
fifteen feet in depth covered these stone compartments 
and they were proof from the bombs of other days, 
but would have but feebly resisted the modern high 
explosives. There were also several tunnels leading 
from various parts of the interior to the outer walls, 
so that men could be taken to any part of the fort that 
might be attacked without being exposed to the enemy's 
fire. About a thousand men could be billeted there. 

Water for this fort was supplied from two deep wells 
and raised by a peculiar lift pump, different from any 
that I ever saw before. It was a sort of combination of 
a lift and pressure pump and was of European design 
and manufacture. The wells were deep and the water 
good, for France. 

On the day after our arrival there we commenced our 
work. We were given a stiff drilling for three weeks, 
with scarcely a minute's rest. We often worked until 

Thirty-one 



two or three o'clock in the morning. Our daily routine 
was as follows: Arise at 5 o'clock; breakfast at 6; calis- 
thenics and manual of arms drill from 6:30 to 7:30; in- 
struction from 8 to 12; lunch from 12 to 1; instruction 
from 1 to 5; evening instruction from 7 to 10, and 
often until 1, 2 or 3 o'clock the next morning. It was 
here that we received advanced learning in intelligence 
lines for our work in the war. 

We studied with French and American instruments 
such as were then being used by the Allied armies on 
the western front. I cannot describe these instruments 
in detail or tell much about our instruction because I 
have given my oath never to reveal any of the details 
of this work. I am permitted, however, to name some 
of these instruments, such as the subterranean micro- 
phone, sizorscope, horoscope, perpendicular and hori- 
zontal range finder, elongated three-power French 
binocular, instruments for determining the height of 
airplanes, etc. We had to acquire a practical knowl- 
edge in the use of all these instruments, as they were 
to be our future implements of warfare, and in matters 
of this kind, accuracy is of vast importance. We also 
had to learn the signals of the French, British, Italian 
and American aviators; the international Morse code; 
to send and receive messages perfectly under all con- 
ditions; to have a practical knowledge of the use of 
telephone and telegraph instruments; their attention 
and repair; and how to keep the lines of communication 
in working order at all times and under any and all 
conditions. 

From this brief summary, it can be readily under- 
stood that the Government crowded plenty of work 
upon us during those three weeks. At the completion 
of the courses examinations were given, and only 86 
of us out of a class of 208 succeeded in reaching the 
required percentage. Of the others most remained to 

Thirty- two 



take the course for another three weeks, while a 
few were released from the work as not qualified for 
that particular kind of service. 

All the time that we were studying we were drilled 
just as though we were actually at war. We were 
compelled to dig in, to find the range on certain objects 
and to direct imaginary artillery fire upon them. We 
had to find the range of airplanes that passed over 
us, just as though they were enemy planes. This 
drilling was as near like actual warfare as it was 
possible to make it and because of this, we grasped 
the meaning of our work and the details very quickly. 

We were also drilled thoroughly in the art of camou- 
flage. To be successful in camouflage, one must learn 
to imitate nature and that is what we had to study, 
and one's tracks must always be covered. A successful 
bit of camouflage not only deceives the eyes of the 
enemy aerial observers, but it also deceives the lens 
of the enemy camera. To make this perfectly clear, it 
should be said that the lens of cameras used in war- 
fare are exceedingly delicate and frequently when the 
plate of an aerial photograph is developed, it reveals a 
spot that means some extraordinary work on the part 
of the enemy, which the eyes of the aviator did not 
detect. It can be readily understood, therefore, that 
unless the camera is also deceived, the camouflage 
has not been well done, for enemy planes, having 
located the spot by means of their photograph, could 
plan to bomb it, but if the plate did not show anything, 
then the camouflage is successful. 

While we were at Fort St. Menge we received our 
gas masks and we were compelled to go through many 
gas mask drills. This was done so we would become effi- 
cient in putting them on when we got to the front line. 
With a little practice we got so we could adjust them in 
a remarkably short time. We were also given our steel 

Thirty-three 



helmets while here, and we realized fully that we were 
getting nearer and nearer to the scene of action, and 
that our sham warfare would soon give way to actual 
fighting. We were also drilled in rifle shooting and by 
the time we were ready to leave, we were in every way 
fit to participate in the great struggle in which we 
were soon to take part. 

As soon as our schooling was completed, we were 
told to get ready to leave for Langres, so we packed 
up and we were compelled to "hike" back to that city. 
At Langres we spent two days in getting ready for the 
front. We were ordered to leave fully equipped with 
the best of those things that we had to have. This 
meant that new articles were issued to many of us. 
For instance, if a man had a pair of shoes that was 
partly worn, he was given a new pair, and some of 
our old clothes were turned in for new garments. 
These were two busy days and our time was entirely 
occupied in getting ready. We were limited as to the 
things we could take with us. We were given our 
barrack bags and told to put in these bags all the 
things that we had to leave and that those of us who 
returned would receive their bags when they got back. 
My bag contained a number of toilet articles, clothes 
and other articles that I took with me from the United 
States. I never saw that bag again, as I was gassed 
and wounded and never went back to Langres, but I 
suppose that it has long since become the property of 
some one else. 

When we were ready to leave Langres we marched 
with full equipment to a station three miles from the 
barracks we were leaving, where we were billeted in 
wooden billets. Here we spent the night. We had to 
get up at 4 o'clock in the morning to take an early 
train. It was a bitter cold morning, but we did not 
notice this much, as we were on our way to the scene 

Thirty-four 



of action and our thoughts were on the future. A cup 
of coffee, a couple of doughnuts and a bun was the 
only breakfast that we had, but it was all we wished. 
We carried traveling rations, of which we made good 
use later on. We boarded the train at 4:30 o'clock and 
rode on a fast passenger train until 11 o'clock, when 
we arrived at Toul. We traveled in second and third 
class passenger coaches. At Toul we were well re- 
ceived by the Red Cross, which furnished us with some 
food, and this, together with our traveling rations, 
provided us with a hearty meal. 

We left Toul at 1 o'clock and marched toward the 
front. We were soon within the sound of the heavy 
guns. We continued on the road for several hours, and 
then, as we were getting into the zone where shells fell 
occasionally, we were told to thin out our ranks so that 
if a shell fell among us our casualties would be light. 
From then on, we marched about eight or ten feet apart 
in single file on each side of the road. We were ordered 
to wear our steel helmets as a protection against 
shrapnel. Some did not see the need of doing this, 
but most of us were glad to take the precaution. We 
crossed several narrow gauge tracks on our march, and 
saw trains carrying supplies of all kinds to the battle 
front. They were pulled by gasoline engines. We also 
saw our first barbed wire entanglements. These were 
built back of the lines as a protection to the French in 
case the Germans should break through on that front. 
They were about twenty-five feet in width and extended 
north and south as far as the eye could see. Later on 
we saw barbed wire entanglements as much as 250 feet 
in width, put up as a barrier to the Boche, should they 
break through. 

Airplanes were now very numerous. They were dart- 
ing back and forth at various heights. We were anxious 
to see an airplane battle, but none took place on that 

Thirty-five 



front on that day. We could see observation balloons 
in the distance. Those in the very far distance we knew 
to be enemy observers. 

We marched until 7 o'clock, when we reached a woods» 
where we were permitted to stop. We were given our 
evening meal, which consisted of bully beef and hard 
tack. The woods was our sheltering place for the night. 
Some of the boys said they slept well that night, but I 
will be absolutely truthful and say that I did not. The 
knowledge that we were under shell fire and the un- 
foreseen events that the immediate future held in store 
for me so weighed upon my mind that I could scarcely 
close my eyes. I really do not understand how any of 
the boys slept. We could hear the screech of the shells 
as they whizzed by, but, fortunately, none of them hit 
near us. Only a few days before several hundred Ameri- 
can boys were gassed in this same woods, and our gas 
guard kept a close watch for gas shells. 

The next day we proceeded on toward the Verdun 
front. We marched all day long, with only occasional 
stops. We were not in the open, however, going from 
one woods to another; when we marched in the open, 
only small bodies of men would move at a 
time. At 11 p. m. we stopped marching and made our 
camp for the night. Most of the boys were so weary 
from their long "hike" that they wrapped up in their 
overcoats, lay down on the ground and went right to 
sleep. We remained three days here waiting for orders. 
We were near the front, could hear the guns all the 
time and the occasional rattle of a machine gun. When 
our orders did finally come, we were told to march 
back over part of the same route we had come and we 
finally stopped close to Novient. It was here that we 
saw our first action and it was here that we finished 
our education in the work that we were to do under 
the supervision of the French, who held this front before 
it was taken over by the Americans. 

Thirty-six 



CHAPTER V. 
Preparation for Battle 

We were billeted at Novient for three days in wrecks 
of buildings that had been ruined by Hun shells. At 
first we did not do much work because it was not defin- 
itely known whether or not we were to remain there. 

Although we were in the war zone and under shell 
fire at all times, we were amazed when we learned that 
there were still a few French peasants in the vicinity. 
These were mostly old men and old women, and a few,, 
but very few, children. These peasants would not leave 
their old homes, though requested to do so by the 
French Government. They preferred to remain there 
and be killed by a Hun Shell, if that was to be their 
fate, than to leave the spot that they so dearly loved. 
The young men of these towns were all fighting at the 
front and the young women had gone to the larger 
cities, farther from the front, where they found employ- 
ment at good wages. 

Most of these old peasants kept a cow or two and a 
few chickens and they sold milk and eggs to the Ameri- 
can soldiers, thus realizing a small profit for their great 
hazard. We paid seven francs or about $1.35 for a dozen 
eggs and four francs or about 70 cents for a gallon of 
milk. We were indeed glad to get these luxuries, even 
at these prices and considered ourselves fortunate. In 
Novient two beer shops were also conducted and sold 
the soldiers light wines and beers, the prices being one 
franc or nearly 20 cents for a small bottle of beer, five 
francs for a bottle of red wine and from seven to ten 
francs for a bottle of white wine. 

After three days at Novient, we moved forward to- 
ward the trenches, where we were to complete our 
training for work in the Flash Service. At this time 
we were divided into small detachments, there being 
fourteen men in the detachment to which I was assigned. 

Thirty- seven 



We were taken to a woods about a mile and a half from 
Novient, and there had our first introduction to the 
French S. R. O. T., or service similar to our Flash 
Service. 

In this woods we were billeted underground, where 
we were protected from shell fire. Each detachment 
was billeted with an equal number of French, and it 
was from the fourteen French in our detachment that 
we were to complete our education for the special work 
for which we were preparing. In other words, we were 
to learn the practical application from the French of the 
knowledge that we had learned in the school at Fort 
St. Menge. 

Our first experience in actual war work was in an ob- 
servation tower in this woods. This tower was 65 feet 
in height. It was cylindrical in form and built of steel 
about half an inch in thickness. The interior was about 
five feet in diameter. In the tank (so-called) was a 
lookout post for observation work. It had small slits 
on all sides that could be readily opened and shut, 
through which we were to take our observations. We 
entered the tower through a trap door in the bottom, 
and the men working at the post locked the door while 
they were at their duty. The tower was erected in a 
thick growth of tall trees, and was well camouflaged. It 
was securely hidden from Hun eyes, yet gave us a full 
view of the Hun trenches in that vicinity. It was from 
this tower that I first saw the enemy, and got my first 
glimpse of the Hun lines and got my first full view of 
a modern battlefield. 

The French outer trench was only one-quarter of a 
mile from this tower. The German trenches were Just 
a little way beyond those of the French, the distance 
varying from fifty yards to a quarter of a mile, accord- 
ing to the terrain. With our strong glasses, we could 
get an excellent view of everything that Fritz did in 
this part of the line. 

Thirty-eight 



In this tower the French taught us their secrets of 
observation in modern warfare. They showed us how 
to locate German batteries, machine gun nests, rail- 
roads, troop movements, supply trains, aerial activity, 
observation balloons, etc. We paid particular attention 
to watching how often Hun airplanes arose, where they 
crossed our lines, whether or not they were fired on 
by our anti-aircraft guns, the number of Hun planes in 
the air, the purpose of their flights, etc. It was particu- 
larly important to get the point where the German 
aviators crossed the Allied lines. Their planes followed 
a system in this so as to try to avoid our anti-aircraft 
guns. They would cross at a certain point for one or 
two days, then, believing that if they attempted to cross 
there again they would meet with a warm reception, 
they would change the location, thus keeping the Allies 
guessing all the time. The French remained with us 
about ten days, during which time we acquired sufficient 
knowledge to take up the work ourselves, and the 
American troops then took over this section of the line. 

Our conveniences while here were not good, but they 
were as good as we expected. We accepted our lot with- 
out protest. All our provisions had to be carried in at 
night on our backs, as it would have been dangerous for 
a supply train to attempt to bring anything in during 
the day. There was no water at all in our immediate 
vicinity. That which we used for cooking and drinking 
purposes had to be carried from a spring about three- 
quarters of a mile distant. While going to this spring 
on one occasion, we located a blackberry patch, which 
gave us a little diversion. We conserved our flour for 
several days, and then picked enough blackberries for 
pie. On two occasions we had blackberry pie and it is 
no exaggeration to say that it was absolutely the best 
morsel of food that any of us had ever tasted. It was a 
luxury, I venture to say, that but few soldiers in the 

Thirty-nine 



extreme front line trenches were privileged to enjoy. 

A few days after the French left this front to us, we 
became aware that we were preparing for some big 
military manoeuver. What it was, of course, we were not 
told; we knew, however, that it was to be on a gigantic 
scale. It subsequently developed that we were prepar- 
ing for the great St. Mihiel drive, that wonderful in- 
dependent plunge into German lines by American 
troops, which straightened out the St. Mihiel salient 
and showed definitely to the Germans that ultimately 
they were to be defeated. 

A brief description of this preparation may be of 
interest. Our first intimation of this manoeuver was 
the bringing up of great quantities of ammunition. This 
was placed in the woods and well camouflaged. Next, 
heavy artillery came up in greater quantities than we 
had any idea that the American army had in France. 
Then light artillery was brought up in numbers propor- 
tional to the heavy guns. Then thousands of fresh 
troops were marched up and placed under the cover of 
the woods. These men marched up at night, so as not 
to be seen by Hun airplanes. It should be stated here 
that during this preparation Allied air machines had 
complete mastery of the aerial situation and as soon as 
a Hun plane appeared on the horizon, it was pursued 
until it either was brought down, or it escaped back 
to its lines. 

While the infantry was stationed in these woods, no 
time was lost. The men were given their final instruc- 
tions in fighting Bosch. They were drilled hard every 
day and they became particularly efficient in the use 
of the bayonet, a weapon that in the hands of a Yank 
the Germans fear worse than anything else that I 
know of. Rifle practice, of course, could not be indulged 
in while in these woods, because the noise might attract 
German attention, but bayonet drills never ceased. 

Forty 



Thorough drilling was also given in the use of machine 
guns. Men were instructed how to repair guns, were 
told what to do in case certain parts of the gun were 
injured, were shown how to take guns apart and put 
them together again, and before the end of the drilling, 
these men became as efficient in machine gun work as 
Fritz himself. 

The last step of the preparation was the bringing up 
of the tanks. These came up at night in great numbers. 
There were tanks of all kinds, from the huge British 
machines to the "petite" or little French tank. These 
were also camouflaged and concealed in the woods. 
After the tanks were brought up, their gunners were 
given a final thorough drilling in the use of their guns, 
their machines, etc. We had never before seen such a 
vast equipment of war material. 

It is difficult to express my feelings during the final 
days of this preparation. I knew that something of a 
gigantic nature had been planned and that the time was 
close at hand. I also knew that whatever it was it 
would surely succeed, for nothing could resist the com- 
bined force of all that preparation when the final word 
was given. I cannot but admit that enormous quantity 
of ammunition, the vast number of light and heavy 
guns, the thousands of men ready for the fray, caused 
me to feel a certain indescribable sadness, for I knew, 
that although success was sure to follow our drive, 
some of these brave boys were to pay the price with 
their lives. On September 11th, the boys were drilled 
for the last time. We were then required to strip our 
bodies of all our clothes and to smear ourselves with a 
salve. This was a preparation that was designed to 
protect the body from burns in case we encountered the 
deadly mustard gas. 

After dark and all during the night there was a steady 
stream of men going to their positions in the trenches. 

Forty-one 



They knew that the time for the manoeuver to start was 
near, but whether it was to be 24 or 48 hours, they did 
not know. But we of the Flash Service did; we knew 
that at one minute past midnight on the morning of 
September 12th, the zero hour, the Germans were to be 
given their great surprise party, and we counted the 
minutes as they were ticked off the watch until that 
time arrived. 

CHAPTER VI 

The Great St. Mihiel Drive 

It was exactly at 12:01 o'clock on the morning of Sep- 
tember 12th, when the great St. Mihiel drive began, and 
when all the preparation of which I told in the preced- 
ing chapter was brought into play in the first great 
independent movement of American troops, which was 
to give the Germans a warning of what they were to 
expect from the army from across the seas, of which 
they had so sneeringly spoken. The drive opened with 
a demoralizing barrage, the greatest of the kind that, 
up to that time, had ever been laid down by artillery. 
It greatly exceeded in the number of guns brought into 
action and in amount of ammunition used, any barrage 
that either the Germans or the Allies had, prior to that 
time, attempted. It was like letting hell loose upon 
the Germans in the salient at all points within the 
range of our guns. Language is inadequate to describe 
this barrage and none except those who were actual 
participants in the drive will be able to visualize in the 
mind the terror that General Pershing's guns belched 
forth on that momentous occasion. Those who have 
imaginative minds may be able to form some faint con- 
ception of what this great battle was like, if they can 
picture thousands of guns — heavy, medium and light — 
belching forth their fire with ceaseless regularity for 

Forty-two 



six long hours. It was pitch dark when the first guns 
opened with their roar, but it was not long before the 
heavens were lighted with a brilliant pyrotechnic dis- 
play, something like elaborate Fourth of July fireworks, 
but multiplied by millions in intensity. The heavy artil- 
lery spit forth long flames as they were discharged. 
The long flash, the rapidity with which it is dashed from 
the gun muzzle, and its sudden disappearance, reminded 
me of a serpent's tongue. And serpents' tongues they 
were, indeed, to German hopes, for as sure as these 
are facts, the St. Mihiel drive sealed the doom of the 
despised Huns. As far as the eye could see, these 
flashes were being repeated at stated intervals, and in 
front of them were the smaller and more rapid flashes 
of the medium artillery; and adding their flame, smoke 
and noise to the din far out in front was the famous 
light artillery, which did such effective work throughout 
the war. 

It was not long after the barrage began before the 
Germans began to throw star shells. These were for 
the purpose of lighting up No Man's Land. They are 
thrown to a height of several hundred feet, and as they 
slowly descend, they burn a brilliant white light. These 
added to the brilliancy of the fireworks. The object of 
the Germans in throwing these star shells was to keep 
No Man's Land lighted so as to be ready to repel our 
attack. They knew, of course, that our barrage was 
to be followed up with a charge, but they did not know 
at what hour it was to be launched. The star shells 
were thrown so that they could not be taken unawares 
in the dark. 

Far behind the line in Fritz' territory we could see 
our shells bursting. The telltale flash meant that the 
Huns were getting a dose of severe medicine, though we 
could at that moment only guess at the destruction 

Forty-three 



that was being wrought. Later we were to see the 
havoc worked by our accurate artillerymen. 

The object of this demoralizing barrage was to break 
up the morale of the Germans and in general to pave 
the way for our infantry charge that was to follow. It 
shattered the German trenches, plowed through their 
barbed wire entanglements and kept those who sur- 
vived in a state of great nervous tension, because they 
knew a great charge was to follow. Our guns were 
also trained on such objects as headquarters, railroads, 
heavy artillery emplacements, cross roads, ammunition 
dumps, aviation hangars, etc., from information that 
had previously been obtained by the Flash and Sound 
Ranging sections. The heavy artillery did great damage 
far in the rear. The medium artillery, not having the 
range of the heavy guns, did not reach so far back with 
its fire, but demoralized things generally wherever its 
shells hit. It also had for its purpose the breaking up 
of any attack that might be planned as a counter of- 
fensive. The light artillery is of smaller caliber and 
fires more rapidly. This did wonderful execution and 
was a great help in winning the war. 

It was exactly 6 o'clock when the demoralizing bar- 
rage stopped, and it was followed by a protecting bar- 
rage. There is quite a difference between a demoraliz- 
ing barrage and a protecting barrage. A demoralizing 
barrage is just what its name signifies, a demoralizing 
rain of shells upon the enemy. A protecting barrage is 
for the purpose of protecting the infantry as it charges 
into the enemy's lines and it is raised slowly as the in- 
fantry advances so as to keep over the heads of the 
marching soldiers. As soon as the protecting barrage 
was fired in this drive, the first waves of infantry went 
over the top. 

Most people have a misconception of what going 
over the top is. The prevailing idea is that a great 

Forty-four 



mass of troops rush over the top and into the German 
trenches. What really occurs is this: The men climb 
out of the trenches at an ordinary pace in a thin line 
from six to ten feet apart. This is followed in a few 
seconds by another thin line about the same distance 
apart, and then another, and so on until there are 
thousands of men advancing over No Man's Land, but 
they are scattered over a large area. The object in 
scattering them is to reduce losses in case an enemy 
shell falls among them. I have seen a shell fall among 
men advancing this way without hitting any of them, 
and I have also seen several fall from a single shell. 
Another reason for these thin waves is the fact that 
when advancing in this formation the men of f er a 
poorer target to the machine guns of the enemy, while 
in mass formation, a machine gun could mow down in 
a short time a whole company. 

Just ahead of the waves of infantry in this drive, 
wiggled the tanks. These cumbersome, awkward, ugly 
but efficient machines were of great help to the foot 
soldiers. They not only made a path through the barbed 
wire entanglements that the artillery had not destroyed, 
but they hunted out and destroyed German machine gun 
nests, which were so dangerous to the infantry. The 
tanks had a very difficult task and they performed it 
well. Too much credit cannot be given to the tank 
crews. They were brave, skillful and good fighters. 
It is true they were in a measure protected behind the 
steel walls of the machine, but, on the other hand, they 
were exposed to heavy fire, it was hot and disagreeable 
within and in case of being struck by a shell or running 
onto a mine, the horrors were worse than those to 
which other fighters were exposed. The greatest dan- 
ger was that of being trapped within and burned to 
death in case a shell hits the gasoline tank; a number 
were destroyed in that manner. So I give full credit 

Forty -five 



to the tank men for their heroic services — they braced the 
greatest dangers without knowing such a word as "fear." 

As our boys went over the top they were given the 
protection of an aerial squadron. Only those who were 
advancing toward the Hun lines on that day, with full 
realization of their duties and their dangers, know 
what a feeling of protection these hovering planes gave 
us. They flew low, frequently just over the heads of 
the men, and poured their deadly machine gun fire into 
such of the Hun trenches as the artillery had not de- 
stroyed — and, no matter how thoroughly the artillery 
does its work, there is always plenty left for the other 
branches of the army to do. These daring airmen also 
dropped fishtail bombs on the Huns. These men were 
the bravest of the brave. They had the courage, grit 
and combative qualities of the lion. They are con- 
stantly in great danger. They are fired upon from below 
by enemy anti-aircraft guns, and frequently from above 
by enemy planes. They are also exposed, when they 
fly low, to rifle fire and machine guns and machines are 
frequently brought down by such fire. During a drive 
of this kind they also face the danger of running into 
their own barrage and are restricted as to the area in 
which they may manoeuver. We cannot give these 
fearless men of the flying corps too much praise for 
their work. While men in all branches of the American 
army were brave and all did their duty, I think the air- 
men, like the tank men, deserve a special meed of 
praise for their daring, and when I say this, I intend in 
no way to detract from the bravery of the men in any 
other branch of the service. 

The Flash Service, to which I belonged, was not a 
fighting unit. While we were heavily armed, so that 
we could defend ourselves and fight if necessary, we 
were not, in the strict sense of the word, combatants. 
It was more important for us to keep the lines of com- 

Forty-six 



munication in working order, to give the artillery the 
range on certain objects, to locate machine gun nests 
and direct fire upon them so they could be destroyed, 
than to fight, for there were sufficient numbers in 
other branches of the army for that purpose. But we 
did not overlook an opportunity to help our cause, and 
it is with a great deal of pleasure that I tell of a 
machine gun nest of thirteen men captured by three 
of the men of our detachment, though of a different 
post from mine. It was during the early morning of the 
first day of the drive. It should be stated that the 
American infantry advanced so rapidly that it fre- 
quently went right by carefully concealed machine gun 
nests. This was just what the Germans wanted them 
to do, because they opened fire from the rear and rained 
bullets on our men from two sides. The three men 
that captured the nest of which I am telling were just in 
back of the second wave of infantry that went over the 
top, following it up for the purpose of establishing our 
line of communication from front to rear. They came 
upon this nest as the Huns were preparing to fire at 
our advancing men. When they first located the nest 
the Americans had their revolvers carefully wrapped in 
greased coils and in their holsters, not expecting to use 
them — the greased coils being to keep the weapons from 
rusting from the dampness of the trenches. These re- 
sourceful American boys lost no time, however, in 
getting their weapons ready for use, and by a quick 
and intrepid manoeuver, they approached the Huns, 
covered them with their revolvers, and compelled them 
to surrender without so much as firing a shot. The 
Huns were taken to the rear, and their gun, a Vicker, 
became a trophy of war. 

It was about 9 o'clock in the morning while we were 
advancing that I came upon a petite French tank, which 
had run upon a Hun mine and had been completely 

Forty-seven 



destroyed. The machine was reduced to a pile of junk, 
and it was hardly believable that a mine would work 
such destruction. The heavy iron was torn in shreds, 
and while we knew it was a tank and we knew what 
had happened to it, it was now nothing but scrap iron. 

Just about that time the infantry was capturing 
thousands of Hun prisoners — men who had occupied 
the front German trenches and who were overcome by 
our boys. As I was advancing, I saw 3,700 German 
prisoners marching to the rear, and as it was still 
early in the day, you may know with what thorough- 
ness our boys were doing their work. Among these 
prisoners was a German officer who knew the location 
of the mines that had been planted to destroy tanks, 
bridges, roads, etc. The Americans were not long in 
learning this and they compelled him to point out these 
locations. Under his guidance, 52 mines were destroyed. 
These might have done great damage to American tanks 
and soldiers if they had not been set off. As it was, 
they opened a pathway through which our tanks passed 
without danger. 

As we went forward into the territory that had been 
held by the Huns, we could see the results of our own 
work, that is to say, we could see objects upon which 
we had given the range to the artillery, completely de- 
stroyed. It was gratifying to note that our work and 
the work of the artillery had been so accurate. Objects, 
such as headquarters, railroad tracks, cross roads, that 
we had located through our strong glasses before the 
drive, and upon which we had given the distance to the 
gunners, had been shattered by direct hits, speaking 
wonders for the marksmanship of the American gunners. 
At some places we saw scores of men and animals 
that had been killed by shell fire; at others we saw 
trenches that had been as completely wiped out as 
though they never existed; we also saw ammunition 

Forty-eight 



dumps that had been hit and set afire and which 
burned steadily for several days. These were exceed- 
ingly dangerous places, and we kept a good distance 
from them until they burned completely out, as the 
exploding shells threw flying metal for a distance of a 
hundred yards or more. We also came across railroad 
trains that had been hit as they were proceeding, and 
so badly crippled that they had to be abandoned by 
the enemy, later to be captured by us. 

We advanced about ten kilometers the first day, and 
then our men were directed to dig in. Here we met 
with our first real resistance. The enemy counter at- 
tacked during the night, but his charges were finally 
broken up by our accurate fire. 

Our advance that day had been rapid and had pene- 
trated deeply into the enemy line. This had been pos- 
sible because of the rapidity with which our supplies 
had been brought up. The roads for the most part were 
not badly cut up, and those that were damaged were 
quickly repaired by our engineers. Bridges had been 
hastily built, obstructions removed from highways, and 
shell holes filled in so that traffic could go on almost 
uninterruptedly. This made it possible for all necessary 
munitions to move forward. 

One thing that was annoying to our advance was the 
German "pill boxes" in which machine gunners were 
placed. These pill boxes were of concrete. They were 
round and flat, a few square, and took their name be- 
cause of their resemblance to a pill box. They had slits 
about six inches wide and eighteen inches long in the 
concrete through which theHuns fired their machine guns 
at our troops. Our most effective weapon against these 
pill boxes was our one pounders. They fired a small 
shell directly at the box and continued to fire until 
they got the range of the slit. The shells would then 
penetrate the slit and hit the other side of the box. 

Forty-nine 



exploding when they did so, and killing or wounding 
the occupants. Once the range was obtained, our 
gunners kept pouring in these shells until there was 
no longer any fear that the Fritz soldiers in 
that box would harm any more Americans. Our boys 
put many of these pill boxes out of commission with 
big loss to the enemy. They made duty in a pill box 
certain death for the Huns when any Americans were 
around. 

We spent a rather restless night after our first day's 
advance. Though we had marched many miles and 
were mentally and physically fatigued, it was not easy 
to sleep. We were in constant danger of counter at- 
tack and of being shelled by the enemy, and the sen- 
sation was not pleasant. 

Early in the morning of September 13th, the second 
day of the drive, we advanced again in the gray of 
the early dawn. It was between 8 and 9 o'clock on 
this morning that I saw a great aerial fight in which 
probably thirty-five and perhaps forty machines par- 
ticipated. We had advanced so far the first day that the 
Germans sent their aircraft out in numbers on the 
second day to look at the territory that had been lost. 
Our men were ready for them. It was the most thrill- 
ing sight I ever witnessed, and I cannot imagine any- 
thing more sensational. At first these machines were 
very high in the air, perhaps ten thousand feet, for they 
were mere specks in the sky to the natural vision. It 
was wonderful to see them manoeuvering for positions 
of advantage. They twisted, turned, looped and dove. 
At times two or three would be very close together and 
then again they would separate. Little white puffs of 
smoke told the tale that the machine guns were in 
action. They reminded me of bees swarming, as they 
buzzed and circled around each other in the air. As 
they fought they descended, coming nearer to earth 

Fifty 



and thus plainer to our vision. Suddenly one dropped 
out of the ranks, a struck machine. We knew it was 
permanently out of commission the minute it started to 
fall, for it dropped like a dead bird. It was a Hun 
machine and it dropped close to where I was located, 
so close in fact that within a few minutes I was in- 
specting it and taking small souvenirs to send home 
from its collapsed wings. Then another dropped, but 
it fell far from where we were located and its descent 
was so swift that we could not see its insignia and 
were unable to tell whether or not it was a Hun ma- 
chine. Then one came down wounded, but still able to 
fly. It was an American machine, for it sought refuge 
in back of our lines. And so the fight continued for a 
few minutes— it did not last long— until a total of eight 
machines dropped and several others flew away 
wounded. Just what percentage of Hun and Allied 
planes fell, I was never able to ascertain, but the best 
evidence that the majority of them were Hun machines 
was the fact that the remaining enemy planes soon de- 
parted from the aerial battle field, leaving the Allied 
planes in complete control. The Allied fleet of planes in 
this fight was composed mostly of Americans, though 
our airmen were aided by a couple of British and a 
couple of French machines. 

We continued our advance throughout the second 
day, though we did not proceed as rapidly as on the 
first day. This was because the roads were in poorer 
condition and supplies could not be so rapidly moved 
forward and for the further reason that the country 
was more wooded and offered Fritz a better opportunity 
for defense. Our boys were counter-attacked on sev- 
eral occasions, but each time they sent the Huns flying 
to the rear with heavy losses. In hand to hand fight- 
ing, such as often resulted when counter attacks were 
lodged, the Germans were no match for the Americans, 

Fifty-one 



who seemed to excel in close work which required 
bravery, skill and dash. In fact, it was in this kind of 
work that our bo3^s showed Fritz what we mean in 
America by "punch." 

On the third day we advanced as far as Thiacourt, 
which was our objective. On this day we also met with 
stubborn resistance. It was here that we encountered 
many pill boxes and it required considerable difficult 
and accurate work to put them out of business. 

It was on the night of September 15th that we saw our 
hardest fighting, and were given a taste of how hard 
Germans could fight when pressed. It was on this night 
that our losses were the heaviest of the drive. 

My post was dug in on a ridge that was occupied by a 
detachment of incomparable fighters — the Marines. The 
ridge was only about 500 yards in length. The roads 
being in bad condition, we were unable to get the pro- 
tection of any artillery. All that we had to keep Fritz 
at bay on this ridge was about forty machine guns, which 
were no match for the heavy shells that the Huns were 
pouring on us, having our range to a nicety. We were 
in what is known as "graves," or shallow trenches, not 
having had time to dig deep trenches or to strengthen 
our positions as we were constantly under fire. But 
these Marines laid down a machine gun barrage, the 
first that I had ever seen. They kept up the fire all 
night and thus held Fritz away. It was a tense period. 
Hun shells were dropping all around us and frequently 
right among us, but the machine guns never ceased 
their excellent defensive work. When day broke, and 
the Hun ceased firing, only seventeen of these machine 
guns and their crews were in condition to fight. 
Twenty-three of them had been destroyed by the Ger- 
man artillery. It was a sad sight that met our eyes 
the morning when we saw the losses that we had 
suffered during the night. 

Fifty-two 



It was on the night of the fourth day of the drive 
that fresh men were brought up, and those of us who 
had been out in front during the drive were relieved. 
It was, indeed, a great relief. It permitted us to relax 
our bodies and minds after four days of steady strain, 
with no more food than v/as sufficient to sustain us and 
without rest during the entire time. We were grateful 
to be away for a short time from the devastating fire 
that the Huns were pouring into our front line trenches 
in an endeavor to check a further penetration into their 
lines, but we were still under shell fire. 

We were taken a short distance to the rear, where 
we were billeted in German dugouts. The day before 
these had been occupied by German officers. They 
were elaborately fitted up with all things necessary for 
luxury and comfort, such as beds, bathtubs, electric 
lights, etc. 

It was here, seemingly as a reward for my small 
services in the great fight, that I met my friend and 
companion, McKinley Johnston, of Sacramento. Noth- 
ing could have pleased me more for McKinley Johnston 
is like a brother to me, having been my companion 
since boyhood. It was with him that I had talked of 
enlisting long before I volunteered, and it was he who 
enlisted with me. Though we became soldiers together 
and entered the same company, the fortunes of war 
separated us in France, and united us at a moment that 
was most gratifying to us both. We sat down together 
and related our experiences. He was driving a truck, 
and from him I learned of remarkable escapes that he 
had had from death during the four days of the drive. 
On one occasion a Hun shell, sufficient in size to have 
blown him to atoms, lodged in his truck among supplies 
and failed to explode. I saw the shell myself, also saw 
the hole in the top of the truck through which it passed 
and can vouch for the truthfulness of the story. On 

Fifty-three 



another occasion a shrapnel shell exploded on the road 
just to the right of his truck. When it burst, it sent 
small pieces of metal flying in all directions. About 
twenty-five or thirty of these passed through his truck, 
but not one struck him. I saw the holes they made. 
The motor of the truck was not as fortunate as the 
driver. A number of the pieces passed through the 
hood and lodged in the engine. It was damaged con- 
siderably, but it still ran and McKinley was able to 
complete his trip. I marveled at these stories because 
they concerned a young man of whom I am very fond, 
but escapes of this kind were numerous in these days 
and almost every soldier who passed through the drive 
can truthfully tell of similar escapes. We were facing 
death all the time and the remarkable thing is that so 
many of us did pass through the drive and come out 
alive. 

CHAPTER VII 
Gassed 
One of the happiest days that I experienced during the 
period that I was at war was on Friday, September 20, 
1918. On this day, after having made several visits to 
our new posts in the front line, I came back to our 
billet, where, to my delight and surprise, I found eight 
letters from home awaiting me. No one knows the 
joy that a letter from home gives to a soldier on the 
firing line. It is like taking him out of hell and placing 
him back on earth again. For several days we had 
been in the very thickest of the fight, facing death at 
every minute, seeing our companions fall around us, 
doing everything we possibly could to help our side 
win, and willing to go back and do it all over again 
without complaint— and then to get these welcome 
letters from dear ones 9,000 miles away right in the 
midst of it all. Is it any wonder that on such occasions 
we frequently gave way to our emotions? 

Fifty-four 



The letters that I received were enjoyed not only by 
me, but by my companion, McKinley Johnston, as well, 
as he knew all of my people and was as familiar as I 
was with the things that they wrote about. It is a 
peculiar circumstance, but it is a fact, nevertheless, 
that all of the boys, even those who did not know my 
folks and who came from other States than California, 
were interested in these letters. They were news from 
home and that is what all the boys were craving. They 
wanted to read anything that came from America. So, 
after reading the letters, I passed them all around and 
every boy in the camp read them. After getting the 
letters back, I read them over several times. Several 
of them contained photographs of familiar scenes and 
faces, and it seemed good to look upon them again, 
for no one knew but that it might be the last time we 
would see them. I thought it would be a nice thing to 
sit right down and write, after reading these letters, but 
when I attempted it, I was so overcome with emotion 
caused by thoughts of those who were near and dear 
to me, that I was unable to give expression to my 
thoughts. 

The position of the American troops at this time was 
not favorable. The enemy held the commanding ground, 
and was concealed in woods, while our troops were out 
in the open. The Boche could see what we were doing 
while we were unable to detect his moves. This dis- 
advantage, you might well know, would not long be 
tolerated by Americans. We wanted the commanding 
ground and we wanted to put Fritz in the open. So 
on Monday, September 23rd, we gave Fritz a three- 
hour barrage and it was a hot one. By the time the 
barrage started, all our light artillery had been brought 
up and put in place, and we were able to rain shells 
from the famous 75's upon the enemy in torrents. This 
barrage was for the purpose of breaking up the morale 

Fifty-five 



of the Germans. We were counter-barraged by the 
Huns, and for a time they made it hot for us. But our 
superiority began to show after about an hour's firing. 
The men in the Flash Division worked hard to give our 
gunners the correct location of the German batteries. 
We worked hard and fast and the accuracy of our 
effort was shown by the silencing of the German guns. 
One by one they ceased firing, as the American artillery, 
with the data we supplied them, dropped shells on the 
Hun batteries. 

It was just about 5:45 in the morning when our ar- 
tillery ceased firing and our boys advanced again. This 
time our objectives were only about two kilometers in 
back of the German front trenches. We met with 
stubborn resistance at first, but with the usual Ameri- 
can determination and pluck, we soon forced the Boche 
back. 

It was here that I first saw the German minnewafers 
and trench mortars at work. The shells thrown from 
the minnewafers are as much feared as any German 
weapon of war. They are thrown from a large gun 
with a smooth bore and short barrel. The projectile is 
shaped like a rolling pin, though it is much larger. In 
each end, or handle of the shell, is a cap, which ex- 
plodes as the handle strikes the ground. As the pro- 
jectile somersaults as it travels, one handle or the 
other is sure to hit the earth, so there are no "duds" 
that I saw among these shells. They explode with a 
terrific racket and tear up the earth for a great dis- 
tance around the spot where they land. They are not 
thrown very high in the air, and are intended for use 
in close fighting, that is to say, two or three hundred 
yards. As the shells whirl through the air, you can 
plainly hear them whistling, and if you look sharply 
you can occasionally see them coming. These minne- 
wafers and mortars are of various ranges — from three 

Fifty -six 



and four inches up to twelve and fourteen inches. Aside 
from these trench guns, the Germans in this fight also 
resisted heavily with machine gun nests and one 
pounders. 

In going over the top this time, we did not have the 
protection that we did when the St. Mihiel drive 
started. In other words, we did not have any tanks 
or any aerial protection, but had to advance with only 
such help as the artillery could give us. 

The Germans were well protected and it took clever 
work to outwit them. Their machine gun nests were 
always cleverly concealed. Many of them were con- 
cealed in trees, and it was a common sight to see our 
infantrymen advance unseen by the machine gunners, 
and then with their rifles, shoot them out of the trees. 
I had seen machine gun nests in trees before, but never 
so many as this time. Not only were they numerous, 
but they were so well provided with ammunition that 
they could fire thousands of rounds of shells, if neces- 
sary, I have seen long belt? of cartridges hanging to 
limbs of trees, all ready for use on the part of the 
gunners. I have also seen many of these belts at- 
tached together so as to provide an almost endless chain 
of cartridges for the gun. Under one tree where there 
had been a nest, I saw empty cartridge shells eight 
inches deep, which was some shooting for a short 
fight such as this was. That machine gun had cer- 
tainly done all that could be expected of it. 

We gained our objectives at 4 o'clock of the afternoon 
of the day the drive started. We were then in the best 
possible position, so far as ground is concerned, as it 
was possible for us to occupy. We had taken the com- 
manding ground from Fritz, and we began digging in so 
as to be ready for a counter attack. All during that 
night we dug our trenches, making them deep and as 
safe as possible. Between 3 and 5 o'clock the next 

Fifty-seven 



morning, the expected attack came. We experienced 
a heavy shelling from the German artillery. Of course, 
our light artillery that had been hastily brought up was 
not slow in returning the fire. Our barrage was very 
accurate and eventually the Huns were silenced. 

It was at this time that I was called upon to witness 
the greatest horror of war — that of seeing some of my 
dearest friends fall from the enemy's fire before my 
very eyes. I was working in a post with three other 
men. We had been constantly together since the drive 
began and our hardships that we had undergone resulted 
in a bond of friendship that held us together like 
brothers. All three of these men were killed during this 
barrage. Two of them were instantly killed and the 
third lived but a short time after being hit, dying about 
6 o'clock in the morning. 

When you consider that we were working in a post 
that was not more than twelve feet in diameter, you 
may well imagine my feelings as I saw these boys fall. 
I fully expected that my turn would come at any minute, 
but I kept at work so as to keep my mind off the 
greusome surroundings. 

The next twenty-four hours were about the worst that 
I experienced throughout the war. My post was right 
out in front, and I was the only man left in it. Our 
communication lines had been badly cut up by German 
shells, and I was unable to make a report of the dis- 
aster that our post had suffered to headquarters. I 
could not leave the post, because I could not leave the 
instruments. They were too valuable to be left there 
with no one guarding them, and it would not do to 
leave any chance of their falling into the hands of the 
enemy. So I remained at the post all day. About 7 
o'clock in the evening, men from headquarters fixed the 
communicating lines and I made my report of the loss 
of three men. Help was immediately dispatched to me, 

Fifty -eight 



but, because we were heavily shelled again that night 
by the Huns, it was impossible for aid to reach me. It 
was not until 4 o'clock the next morning that a detach- 
ment reached the post and I was relieved. 

A detachment was also sent from headquarters for 
the purpose of removing the bodies of my three dead 
companions. They were taken back of the lines to a 
beautiful spot in the woods, and there they were buried. 
Because of the fondness of the men of our detachment 
for these and for the further reason that fighting had 
slackened up some, we were able to give these men a 
little better burial than is accorded most soldiers who fall 
on the field of battle. In most cases a grave is dug, the 
body wrapped in a blanket and deposited without a 
casket and without ceremony. But for these boys, some 
of the men in our detachment made boxes to serve as; 
coffins out of material that we had captured from an 
engineering dump. One big grave was dug and the 
bodies were laid in it side by side. One of the boys 
said a prayer and the graves of these brave lads, way 
out there in the woods in France, were covered over. 
This is one of the incidents of the war that will never 
leave my mind, as two of the boj^s were among my 
dearest friends. 

I realize that my escape from death while at that 
post was by a narrow margin. It seemed to be the 
beginning of a number of miraculous escapes, such as 
many soldiers experience. Mine came in such rapid 
succession that I began to have a feeling that Fritz 
would get me yet. About 11 o'clock at night on the 
30th of September I was aroused from my bed in a dug- 
out to repair the communication lines, it being part of 
the duty of our detachment to keep the lines in working 
order when not observing. It wasn't very pleasant, of 
course, to get out of bed in the middle of the night, 
but this was the luckiest call that I had ever had. I 

Fifty-nine 



had not been out more than five minutes when Fritz 
scored a direct hit with a big shell upon that billet, 
destroying everything it in. If I had not been called 
out, I would have been killed. Fortunately for our post, 
all the other members were on duty at the time, so we 
all escaped. But while I escaped with my life, the shell 
destroyed all of my personal belongings. This resulted 
in my discomfiture for many days, as I will relate. I 
had previously captured a pair of German officer's 
boots, which I would put on when called out at night, 
rather than my regulation army shoes and leggins. On 
this night I slipped on these boots, and my army shoes 
were torn to shreds. Therefore, I was compelled to 
wear the German boots, and they were the most un- 
comfortable things that I had ever had on my feet. 
Though they were my size, I could not get used to them, 
and they burned and blistered my heels so that I could 
hardly walk. As we were way out in front, it was 
not easy to get new shoes from headquarters. My foot 
troubles became so serious that my officer granted me 
a day off duty for the purpose of trying to find a pair 
of shoes that would fit me. I spent the entire time 
in a fruitless search. I found several pairs of shoes that 
belonged to boys who had been killed, but they would 
not fit me, so finally I had to give it up. I wore those 
Boche boots sixteen days, and I had to keep going all 
the time with sore and blistered feet. I suffered more 
from those German boots than from anything else in 
the war. 

On October 4th I had another interesting experience 
and narrow escape, which was as close as any that I 
ever want to experience. I was one of a detail that 
was sent after water. We had to go from our dugouts 
a distance of about two kilometers. On our way there 
we were walking in a gully. Fritz had probably used 
that gully for the same purpose himself when he held 

Sixty 



that ground, and he probably knew that we would be 
using it too. At any rate, he had the range to a 
nicety. On our way he first dropped a number of gas 
shells around us. We hastily put on our masks and 
escaped injury. But the gas shells were followed by a 
few high explosives. A flying fragment severed the 
air tube of my gas mask. This meant immediate death, 
unless there was quick action. I had the presence of 
mind to take hold of the tube, so as to prevent any 
gas from entering my lungs, and then I ran to high 
ground. The reason I sought high ground is because 
the chlorine gas is heavy and settles in low places and 
is not likely to be as thick if high ground can be 
reached. I was accompanied by one of the buddies, 
who saw my plight and ran to assist me. By a stroke 
of luck that seems almost unbelievable, we ran across a 
salvage dump on the ridge to which we ran, and there 
we found a good gas mask, which I hurriedly slipped 
on, and used until a new one was issued to me. As if 
to add insult to injury, while I was having trouble with 
the mask, I was struck on the shoulder by a piece of 
shrapnel. The fragment, however, had about spent its 
force, and while I was knocked down by the force of 
the blow and suffered from a bruised shoulder for sev- 
eral days, the skin was not broken and my injury did 
not reach the dignity of a wound. 

We proceeded on and got our water, and on our way 
back we were shelled again when we were in approxi- 
mately the same place. This time one of the men re- 
ceived a small scratch from a piece of flying shell. It 
just broke the skin between the knee and the thigh, 
but was so small that it did not cause any inconven- 
ience. Shortly after this, another bit of shrapnel hit 
my helmet and knocked it off my head. I gave the boys 
cause for a hearty laugh as I scrambled on all fours 
after my "tin derby," and no doubt I cut an amusing 

Sixty-one 



figure. Fritz seemed to be picking on me all day, but 
I was glad that I got off so lightly after being exposed 
to so much danger. 

There is no room for sentiment in the army. Birthdays 
usually don't mean much. It just happened, however, 
that I had a day off of post on October 6th, and, that 
being my birthday, the occasion was made doubly pleas- 
ant. But the thing that made the day a perfect one 
for me was the fact that when I reached headquar- 
ters I found fourteen letters from home, I have 
already told how happy I felt when I received eight 
letters — well, fourteen made me feel just twice that 
happy. They were from relatives and friends and no 
gift could have made my birthday more pleasant. 

October 16th was another red letter day for me. On 
that date I had a detail to pack in supplies, and I had 
the great fortune to find a new pair of shoes, just my 
size. What a relief to get rid of those uncomfortable 
ill-fitting, detestable German boots. If there was one 
thing that made me hate Germans worse than anything 
else, it was those horrid German boots. The boys said 
they were a hoodoo and that if I continued to wear 
them Fritz would get me sure. However that may be, 
I did not cease to have close calls. The very next day I 
got a small sniff of chlorination gas. It happened while 
I was fixing communication lines. I did not get enough 
to hurt me, but it made me deathly sick. I was unable 
to do much for a couple of days, and was taken to head- 
quarters, where I was assigned to the duty of fixing 
communication lines, which were constantly in danger 
of being broken. On October 24th two of us were sent 
to repair a break, which we located at 5 o'clock in the 
morning. Dawn was just breaking and the place where 
we found the break was in the woods. The Germans 
had during the night thrown a lot of chlorine gas shells 
into this woods, so we donned our masks. The break 

Sixty-two 



in the line was a difficult one to repair. We soon found 
that we could not do it with our gas masks on — one or 
the other must take his mask off. We could not return 
without making the repair. To a soldier there is no 
such word as fail. It is either do or die. The buddy 
who was with me was a married man with a baby at 
home. I, being unmarried, could certainly not ask him 
to take off his mask, while I kept mine on. So I 
stripped mine off, made the repair, and while doing so 
was gassed severely. With the aid of the buddy, I was 
able to reach our billet. There I was put on a stretcher 
and taken to a field dressing station. As the old saying 
goes, it never rains but it pours; gassing was not the 
only trouble I was destined to experience on that day. 
As I was being carried to headquarters a shell ex- 
ploded nearby and I was struck in the leg by a piece 
of shrapnel. It was a small but painful wound just 
below the left knee. I tried to accept it with a smile, 
and I was really glad that I was struck instead of one 
of the other men, as I was already out of the fight, 
while if one of them had been wounded, it would have 
been two out of commission instead of one. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Hospital Experiences. 

After being gassed and wounded, I was taken imme- 
diately to a dressing station, where the wound in my 
leg was carefully, but hurriedly dressed and my throat 
was swabbed with a preparation used in all hospitals to 
relieve the severe burning in the throat caused by gas. 
Of all the unpleasant experiences that I had at war, this 
throat swabbing was the worst. It seemed to me like 
the surgeon who performed this act had found in my 
throat a bottomless pit, and as the swab went up and 
down my burning esophagus, I suffered great agony. 

Sixty-three 



Although I knew this treatment was necessary, if I was 
to recover speedily from the gas burns, I could scarcely 
endure it. 

As soon as the wound in my leg was dressed and my 
throat doctored, I was examined as to my physical con- 
dition by a Major, who labeled me with a tag upon which 
was written, "tuberculosis." This, of course, was very 
annoying and caused me considerable worry. It was 
certainly not a pleasant word for one to receive when 
lying in the condition that I then was. But I afterwards 
learned, much to the relief of my mind, that this tag 
had been put on me by the Major as a warning to the 
next surgeon into whose hands I should fall, against 
tuberculosis. In other words, in m.y condition, it was 
necessary to take precautions against the white plague. 

I experienced great pains in my throat and lungs 
from the gas and seemed to be choking. My strength 
was entirely gone, and I was about as miserable as one 
could be. I could not utter a sound and any attempt to 
speak only increased my pain. I relate these facts about 
the agony that I suffered simply to show what a terri- 
ble weapon of war this deadly phosgene gas is, and to 
emphasize the villainy of the Hun government in using 
it after having agreed with other nations years before 
not to do so. 

I was placed on a cot and made as comfortable as 
possible under the circumstances and was awaiting a 
motor truck to take me to a base hospital. On all sides 
of me were other wounded and gassed boys. Some of 
them were exceedingly jolly and talkative, notwith- 
standing their pitiable condition. I remember one boy 
in particular, who was about my own age. He was going 
over on a raid and was shot through the temple. The 
bullet entered on one side an inch or two above the 
eye, and went straight through, passing out the other 
side at about the same distance above the eye. It passed 
through apparently, without striking the brain, and the 

Sixty -four 



boy was fully conscious while the wound was dressed 
and seemed to be quite jolly. I watched the surgeon 
shave both sides of his head around the wound to pre- 
vent infection, and then carefully dress his head, with- 
out administering any anesthetic. I marveled at the 
boy's condition, with such a nasty wound, but what sur- 
prised me still more was several months later when I 
was on board ship on my way home, there was this 
same boy with his wound entirely healed. Two little 
white scars, one on each temple, were the only marks 
that told of his awful experience. 

From the dressing station I was taken to a field hos- 
pital, about fifteen kilometers to the rear, and there 
placed in a ward in a tent. The purpose of the field 
hospital is to treat soldiers who are too severely wound- 
ed to be taken to base hospitals. My wound was again 
examined, cleaned and dressed and again the terrible 
swab went its depth. About 4 o'clock that afternoon I 
was loaded into another stretcher on an ambulance and 
taken to Base Hospital 51 at Toul. The distance from 
the field hospital to Toul was about twenty-five kilo- 
meters and we did not reach there until about 9 o'clock 
that night. The trip was a rough one, and I suffered 
greatly. I positively believe my recovery would have 
been much faster, had I not been transferred so hastily 
to this hospital. I was placed in a ward in a large hos- 
pital built of stone. In this hospital the wounded men 
were classified in accordance with the nature of their 
wounds. I was not long in this hospital when a nurse 
took charge of me, and again, I received that awful 
swab. Each time it seemed worse than before and how 
I dreaded the time when it was to be given again ! But 
much to my surprise and pleasure, my treatment was 
changed at this hospital. My chest and throat were 
massaged by the nurse with an oil that brought me im- 
mediate relief. This nurse continued this treatment sev- 
eral times a day and night and I began to feel a little 

Sixty-five 



better. All this time, however, I was unable to utter a 
word, and I began to wonder whether or not my speech 
was permanently injured. In my predicament, however, 
I soon learned the sign language. It is remarkable how 
well a man can make himself understood merely by the 
use of his hands. I had no trouble at all in making my 
wants known. I was in the base hospital at Toul for 
fourteen days and all of that time I coughed up great 
chunks of solid matter and mouthfuls of blood, as the 
result of the burning that I had received. After the 
seventh day, the nurse stopped the use of the swab, 
much to my delight, but continued the more appreciated 
massage. 

On the morning of my fifteenth day at this hospital, 
I was able to make my wants known by a faint whisper, 
and on that day I was transferred to another hospital. 
I was placed in a motor car and taken to the railroad 
station, about half a mile distant and there loaded on to 
a French hospital train, our destination being Tours. 
Before the train pulled out of the station, American 
Red Cross workers, always in evidence in every city in 
France, came and made us as comfortable as possible. 
They gave us coffee and doughnuts, hot chocolate and 
cigarettes, and their kindness was greatly appreciated 
by all the wounded on that train. 

All the members of the crew of the train were French, 
and there was also several French surgeons aboard. 
They all showed much interest in the American troops. 
They asked us many questions about America and the 
American people. The fighting qualities of our boys 
were highly praised by them. The members of the crew 
in particular were interested about working conditions 
in America, and were anxious to know whether or not 
they would have any difficulty in getting work if they 
came to this country. They showed plainly that they 
had been so favorably impressed by Americans in 

Sixty-six 



France that they had a longing to become a part of 
this great nation. 

It took us a day and a night to reach Tours. The 
journey was a tiresome one and we were glad when 
the train finally stopped at Tours. Again we were put 
on motor ambulances and taken to Base Hospital 7, 
in the suburbs of the city. We were immediately given 
a physical examination, and all our personal effects, in- 
cluding our clothes, were taken from us, except a few 
toilet articles. We were then given a bath robe, a towel 
and soap and taken to a warm shower. It was with 
great delight that we got under that shower and enjoyed 
a thorough bath. The showers were of American make 
and were built large enough so that twenty-five or thirty 
men could take a bath at a time. After the shower we 
were given a solution to rub on our bodies for the pur- 
pose of killing the cooties. The time had come, I am 
glad to say, when we and the cooties, must forever part. 
But the cootie in the front line trenches was not alto- 
gether an enemy. That may sound strange, but the fact 
is, when we were fighting the cooties and chasing them 
out of our dug-outs, our minds were not on our more 
serious troubles and we were unmindful of the dangers 
that surrounded us. So there were times when the coot- 
ies were really friends and they kept our minds and 
hands occupied. 

After the bath, we were taken back to the ward and 
were not allowed to have any clothes for three days. 
This was probably so there would be no chance of a 
stray cootie getting into our new outfit. When three 
days had elapsed, however, we were given slips, which 
we filled out in accordance with our needs. When I got 
back into a uniform, life at the hospital was more pleas- 
ant. With the aid of crutches I was able to move around 
a little and to enjoy the company of other boys. The 
time was spent in playing cards, light conversation, and 

Sixty-seven 



other amusements. We kept our minds off our rough 
experiences at the front. 

I had an unusually pleasant experience soon after I 
was at Tours. A Red Cross nurse came to our ward 
to take orders for our small wants, such as candy, cigar- 
ettes, tobacco, writing paper and such articles. She 
spoke a few words to me and then passed on. It was 
the first time I had spoken to an American girl since 
leaving the United States. A few minutes later one of 
the boys told me she was from the West and then one 
said he thought she was from California. I could not 
wait until she came to bring our supplies, but immediate- 
ly started out to look her up, so anxious was I to see 
and talk with a Californian. I found her and told her 
I was from California and that I had heard that she 
was from that State, too. To my great pleasure and sur- 
prise, I learned that she was from Sacramento, my home 
town, and that she was acquainted with my folks and 
knew of me. Her name is Miss Mae Forbes, and after 
her patriotic work in France, she is home again in Sac- 
ramento. One must experience the delight of meeting a 
charming young woman from his own town, in far-off 
France, and under the circumstances that I did, to appre- 
ciate my feelings at this time. It is an experience that 
I will always remember as one of the most happy of 
my life. It was only a few days later that I made my 
way, without the aid of crutches this time, to the Ameri- 
can Red Cross station where I again met Miss Forbes 
and had a long and pleasant chat with her about Califor- 
nia. Miss Forbes introduced me to the other members 
of the station, and from that time until I left Tours, it 
was like my home. I spent many a pleasant hour there 
and its memories will always be dear to me. 

I was in the hospital at Tours on November 11th, when 
the armistice was signed. There was a great commotion 
in my ward when we first learned the news. Most of 
the boys were glad that the war was over and that the 

Sixty-eight 



lives of so many boys still at the front had been spared. 
Others said they hoped the end had not come so sudden- 
ly, as they were anxious to recover and get back into the 
front line to take another crack at the despicable Huns. 

At this time I v^-as gaining strength rapidly and was 
able to get around fairly well. I was given a pass out of 
the hospital, and with two other boys who were fairly 
strong, we went into the business district of Tours to 
witness the celebration. It was like a great city gone 
mad. The streets were crowded with civilians, and 
everybody was waving flags. Most people had a French 
flag in one hand, and the flag of one of the Allied na- 
tions in the other. The American flag predominated 
above all other Allied flags; in fact, the people of Tours 
seemed to be very partial to America. "Vive I'Amerique" 
they shouted, "La guerre est fini." They are very emo- 
tional and demonstrative. They lined the sidewalks of 
the business streets, waving their flags and shouting in 
their native tongue, while an American Marine Band 
playing patriotic music, marched up one street and down 
another. It was a general holiday and no business was 
done that day, and but very little for several days there- 
after. All American soldiers in the city were lionized. 
When a group of enthusiastic Frenchmen would get hold 
of a buddy, they would insist on taking him to a cafe 
and buying the most expensive of wines. If we could 
have conserved all the liquor the French were willing 
to buy for us that day, dry America would not worry us. 

I was seated on a bench in one of the parks watching 
the demonstration and contrasting it with the probable 
demonstrations in American cities on that day, when 
two flags, one French and the other American, dropped 
over my shoulders. I straightened up and the next thing 
I knew I was strongly clasped in the arms of a beautiful 
young French girl, elegantly dressed and bewitchingly 
charming. She kissed me fervently on each cheek. The 
sensation was pleasant, but it was rather embarrassing 

Sixty-nine 



inasmuch as it was in full view of hundreds of people 
who were celebrating. If the shades of evening had been 
falling, the spot more secluded and the number reduced 
to two, it VvTOuld have been more to my American tastes. 
However, I arose, conscious that I was blushing, and 
offered the beauty my hand. She could scarcely speak a 
word of English and I scarcely a word of French, but 
we managed to make each other understand that it was 
a pleasurable greeting. She was soon on her way joy- 
fully waving her flags, and I — well, I charged myself up 
with a lost opportunity for not being more proficient in 
the polite use of the French language. 

We remained in the city until 9:30 that evening, and 
the people v/ere still celebrating. And they kept it up 
for several days and several nights, so great was their 
joy in knowing that the war was over and that the 
enemy had been crushed. 

My stay in Tours gave me some opportunity of 
seeing this ancient city. Tours lies in the heart of the 
Loire Valley, which is the garden of France. It is 145 
miles southv/est of Paris by rail and is on the left bank 
of the Loire River. It is an exceedingly old city and 
has an interesting history. There are numerous castles 
and chateaux in the vicinity, which in peace times are 
visited annually by thousands of tourists. It contains a 
number of ancient buildings of interest. In normal 
times it is no doubt one of the most interesting cities in 
France. 

The hospital in which I was treated was a very large 
one, in fact, it was a great institution of many buildings. 
It contained forty-five wards of fifty cots each. It 
covered a large area and had every comfort for the men, 
such as a motion picture house, library, reading room, etc. 

After I had been there about five weeks and had 
regained much of my physical strength, the authorities 
in charge began to classify the boys, either for further 
duty, or for shipment home. All were anxious to be put 

Seventy 



in class D, which meant the United States — God's coun- 
try. Nobody wanted class A, which meant further duty 
with the army of occupation, and another year at least 
in Europe. It seemed very much like a lottery, as the 
boys who were able to do so, walked up and received 
their classification. I was exceedingly happy when I 
was given class D, which meant that nothing would stop 
me from seeing "home and mother." 

After being classified, we were notified to make our- 
selves ready for a trip to the coast. Although we were 
not told that we were going home, we knew that the 
good old U. S. A. was our ultimate destination. So I 
received a pass and made my last visit to the business 
district of Tours for the purpose of purchasing some 
souvenirs of France for the women folks at home. The 
men I had already remembered with rings, made during 
my convalescing days at the hospital out of French two- 
franc pieces. I might add that ring making was a favor- 
ite occupation of the patients and we spent many pleas- 
ant moments working them out sitting on our cots, 
while a group of interested buddies would sit around 
and watch and comment. 

I found it no easy matter to make my purchases. In 
the first place, the French merchants, knowing that 
many of the American boys had money to spend, asked 
about four prices for everything, and, secondly, the 
French methods of doing business are quite 
different from our own. But by spending practically 
the entire day, by attempting Hebraic methods in pur- 
chasing, and by pretending that I had only a few francs 
to spend, I managed to spend about $25 in buying the 
few things that I wanted to bring home. 

I was then ready to leave, whenever Uncle Sam was 
willing to take me. 



Seventy-one 



CHAPTER IX. 
Home Again 

On the morning of December 11th a number of the 
boys at the hospital at Tours received orders to prepare 
for a trip to the coast. This was the most welcome news 
that we could have heard and we hastily got our per- 
sonal belongings together. It was about 10 o'clock when 
we were placed in ambulances and taken from the hos- 
pital. We were driven to the railroad station about a 
mile distant, and there assigned to quarters in an Ameri- 
can hospital train. 

This was the first American train I had been on since 
I arrived in France, and it certainly was a great relief 
to me to know that we were not to be crowded into one 
of those uncomfortable-, stuffy and tiresome French 
trains. The American hospital train furnished an ex- 
cellent example of American efficiency, and when con- 
trasted with the French trains. I could not but think how 
much more progressive our people are than Europeans. 
We had everything that we needed, and plenty of it. We 
enjoyed good beds, good food, and sufficient room to 
move around without encroaching upon the rights and 
the good natures of others. We pulled out of Tours 
with no regrets on what was our most enjoyable train 
trip while in France. It was enjoyable for two reasons — 
first, we were traveling in comfort and as an American 
is used to traveling, and secondly, we were traveling 
toward home. 

The trip down the Loire Valley followed practically 
the same route that we took on our way from Brest to 
Tours. The scenes, of course, were very much the same, 
except that the country now wore its winter coat, while 
it was mid-summer on my previous trip. 

We arrived in Brest on December 13th, and to our 
surprise, we learned that President Wilson had just 
previously landed there, and the city had gone wild with 

Seventy-two 



enthusiasm over him. A tremendous crowd gathered at 
the station to greet him. Bands were playing and the 
occasion was a gala one. Our train stopped about a 
quarter of a mile away from the station, where the Pres- 
ident greeted a mass of French people and American 
soldiers. I regret very much that I was unable to get a 
view of the President while he was at Brest; that was 
not my fortune. We did, however, see his train pull out 
on its journey to Paris. 

Soon after we arrived at Brest we were told that we 
would be taken back on the "George Washington," the 
liner upon which President Wilson crossed the Atlantic, 
and great was our joy. However, we were soon doomed 
to disappointment, for orders were changed, and we 
were taken to the Carry On Hospital, just out of Brest. 
The ride to the hospital was a disagreeable one, as it 
had been raining and the streets were muddy and wet. 
The ambulance rocked more like a boat than a motor 
car. We were assigned quarters and given food. We 
met a number of boys in the various wards who were 
awaiting their time of departure. We asked them about 
how long it was after arriving at Brest before soldiers 
were embarked for home, and they said the time varied 
all the way from three to thirty days. That was not 
very encouraging and we were hoping that in our case 
it would be three days. The very next morning, how- 
ever, a number of our boys received orders to get ready 
to depart. I was not included among them, to my 
sorrow, and had no idea how long I might be kept at 
Brest. It was only a day or two later when we were 
made happy by the news that our time to depart had 
come. It was joyful news and made our hearts beat with 
the joy that only a returning soldier knows. 

We were loaded on the hospital ship "La France," 
which is a beautiful, four-funnel French liner, 796 feet 
in length. It was the third largest liner in use in trans- 
porting troops at that time. We took our places on the 

Seventy -three 



boat about noon, but the big ship laid in the harbor all 
afternoon, and it was not until about sundown that she 
started to pull out and we bade "good-bye" to "la belle 
France." One might think that there was a lot of cheer- 
ing when the boat pulled out on the eventful afternoon 
of December 17, 1918, but there was not. Some of the 
bo3^s, it is true, cheered heartily. Most of us, however, 
were too full of emotion to become wildly demonstra- 
tive. Our thoughts were on home, the folks that are 
dear to us, and our beloved native land, and our emotions 
were too strained for expression in cheers. 

The vessel was manned by French, who treated. us 
splendidly for the first two days out. After that, how- 
ever, they began to skimp on our food and to give us 
things of poor quality. For instance, we were given 
coffee without sugar or milk, cereals of poor quality 
without even salt in them, and no fruit, though it 
was understood that fruit was to be a part of our diet. 
The boys complained bitterly at this treatment, and 
finally our officers, knowing that we were not being 
properly fed, made an examination of the ship. They 
found several hundred boxes of apples that were sup- 
posed to be for us, stowed away in the hold. It had 
been the intention of the French in charge of this boat 
to steal that fruit, evidently to sell it, at the expense of 
the wounded American soldiers on this hospital ship, 
who had fought and saved their country from the 
Hunnish hordes. We had been cheated and overcharged 
for everything we purchased in France, and we knew it, 
but it surely did hurt when we were thus treated by men 
whose homes we had saved at the cost of our blood. I 
will say this : We did not hold this kind of treatment 
against the French people as a whole, but to individuals 
who are so unprincipled and so greedy that they are 
willing to sacrifice the fair name of their people for a 
paltry gain. I might add here that it was the smallness 
of some of the individual "Y" workers that brought the 

Seventy-four 



Y. M. C. A. into such disrepute among the American 
soldiers in France. This simply shows how important 
it is for an individual to sustain the reputation of his 
country, or his association, as the case may be, by honor- 
able conduct. 

After our officers uncached the horde of stolen apples 
in the ship's hold, we were well fed and on the last two 
days of the journey had no complaint to make on this 
score. 

On December 24th at 10 a. m. some far sighted in- 
dividual shouted "Land" and what a welcome word it 
was. Columbus, watching from the deck of the Santa 
Maria, was not more happy when he first set eyes upon 
the faint outline of the new world than we were as the 
dim blue shoreline began to rise upon the horizon. There 
was a mad rush to the deck and everybody who could 
get out was soon watching over the rail. It was not 
long before the Statue of Liberty came into full view 
and there was joy in our hearts for we knew that at 
last we were home. 

In a very few minutes our ship stopped and a pilot 
was taken aboard to guide the great vessel safely into 
the harbor. Next we were greeted by a yacht that 
steamed out beside us carrying a great sign, "Welcome 
Home." It was the 24th of December, and this boat 
carried a large Christmas tree, typical of the season. 

As we entered the harbor, we were given a wonderful 
welcome. It seemed as though every whistle in the great 
city of New York had been brought into action to make 
noise on our account. Certainly every boat in the 
harbor from the smallest tug to the trans-Atlantic liners 
was blowing a blast; and the noise, though of an entirely 
different character, was as deafening as that of a battle. 
Every window of all the great buildings that make up 
that wonderful skyline of New York was filled with 
patriotic citizens waving a welcome to us. It was a 
great sight and one that the boys will never forget. It 

Seventy-five 



seemed so good to see our own people again — our pretty- 
girls, our fond fathers, our dear mothers, our elderly 
folks, and even our street gamins. It gave us a feeling 
that we would like to take them all in our arms, for 
they were ours and we were theirs. I knew, of course, 
that there would be none of my folks to meet me, as 
my home is in California, but it did me good to see the 
other boys meet and greet their mothers, fathers, sisters 
and sweethearts. 

We started disembarking at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. 
I was on the top deck and did not get off until 9 o'clock, 
being among the last to leave the ship. We were taken 
on a ferry to Jersey City, where we were entertained and 
given food. Later in the evening we were taken to 
Camp Merritt, New Jersey, by train. It did seem good 
to ride on a real American train, on American soil, and 
among our countrymen. We arrived at Camp Merritt 
at 11 o'clock at night and I was taken to the hospital. 
I was assigned to a ward and after getting comfortably 
fixed was given a real American meal, and you may be 
sure that it was thoroughly enjoyable. We had to stay 
in the barracks the next day to undergo a physical ex- 
amination and for the further purpose of taking pre- 
cautions against the persistent cooties — some of the boys 
having encountered them on the boat. 

The spirit of Christmas was everywhere manifest, and 
certainly I could have had no Christmas present better 
than to arrive in America on Christmas eve. The Red 
Cross brought us boxes of good things to eat and 
Christmas presents, and the people entertained us won- 
derfully. They took us on automobile rides in their 
private cars, to dinners, to theaters, etc. Their hospital- 
ity was of the real American sort and it was deeply 
appreciated by the boys. 

At the very first opportunity after reaching camp, I 
sent a telegram to my parents in Sacramento, telling 
them that I had arrived safely, I received an answer 

Seventy-six 



saying that all at home were well, that same day, and 
it was a welcome message. It was the first word I had 
heard from home since I had been gassed and wounded 
in October. I had been transferred from place to place 
so frequently that my mail never quite caught up with 
me. It kept following me around, and I did not get all 
my letters until some weeks after I arrived home. 

I was in Camp Merritt for a month and five days, and 
during that time I had an excellent opportunity of seeing 
New York. I made several trips to the metropolis and 
enjoyed seeing the points of interest of that great city. 

While at the camp I met Harry Nauman, a Sacramento 
boy, and greatly enjoyed the pleasure of his company. 
From my folks I heard that James Brenton, my room 
mate at college, was also there. I looked him up and 
was fortunate in finding him. We spent three or four 
pleasant days together before we departed for California. 

On the first day of February, I left the camp and was 
sent to the Letterman Hospital in San Francisco. The 
trip across the continent was uneventful, except for the 
last one hundred miles of the journey. At Sacramento I 
again saw my folks after a year in the service and my 
father and mother accompanied me to San Francisco, 
making the ride most enjoyable as Dad related all the 
local happenings during the long time that I was away. 
I spent several days in the Letterman Hospital and was 
then honorably discharged from the service. 

I have endeavored to relate in a general way many of 
my experiences. I have not told all. Some of the more 
gruesome occurrences I have left untold, not believing 
that any good would come of their repetition. 

I can honestly say that I am glad that I went to war 
and that I fought for my country. The experience was 
of untold value to me, as it gave me a broader and more 
serious view of life. Notwithstanding all the horrors of 
war, if called upon again, I would willingly go. I am 
ready to serve my country any time it calls. We have a 

Seventy-seven 



Vv'onderful country and a wonderful people. I realize 
that now more than I did before we went to war. My 
rather limited observations lead me to believe that we 
are far ahead of any European country. If Americans 
live for America, if they put country above self, if they 
obey the laws and become acquainted with all the won- 
ders of their own land, this nation will make even greater 
progress in the future than it has in the past. The war 
brought out a wonderful spirit ; let our spirit in times of 
peace be just as patriotic. 



Seventy -eight 




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° 01 1278 550 4 7 



